Smokey and the bandit

After a year and a half of staring at an empty wall behind my computer monitor at work, my new office is taking some getting used to. Granted, I pride myself in not being easily distracted since I spent four years in a fish bowl in Fort Smith where little kids would literallly smash their faces against my glass office wall, but this new setting is even weirder. My computer monitor sits in front of a glass wall, but it's two-way glass, meaning I can see out into the parking lot and interstate beyond, but the people outside can't see in. It's stragely disconcerning to watch people pick their nose, adjust their pantyhose, and generally do things they don't know I'm watching. I'm not quite sure why they wouldn't surmise that the reflective glass holds people with eyes inside. People like me, who need little encouragement to mock others.

Since we're in an office park, we have several neighbors. The one just to the south of us sells most of the country's cereal. They don't manufacture it there, but they do seem to have some stock, which causes an occasional rat problem. Ick.

The property management company instituted a "no smoking within 25 feet of the building" rule, which I love, but it has caused some issues for the cereal pushers next door. One such lady, whom we'll call Ms. Smokey Smokerson, now finds it necessary to leave her cubicle, walk out to her huge gas-guzzling SUV, and smoke with the windows up. Do you have any idea how addicted one must be to brave the massive summer heat in order to burn a butt multiple times a day? On Friday alone, she made three trips to the vehicle in two hours. And I'm not sure who's losing more productivity, her for the multiple smoke breaks, or me for watching this ritual over and over again.

Smokey always parks next to a Toyota Avalon with a very sensitive alarm. So, every time she enters or exits the Denali, the Avalon's alarm goes off. I'm not sure why this amuses me more, because it always makes her jump, or because she hasn't learned to park near a different, alarm-less vehicle. Seriously lady, ever hear the definition of insanity? Why does this alarm still surprise you?

Perhaps this week I'll find something else to watch. Or she'll learn to park near a different car. Or maybe she'll stop slowly poisoning herself with nicotine. Regardless, I need to stop laughing at her. Or maybe not.