Office Park Co-habitors (Pt. 1)

Dear Renters of Office Space Near Me,

How are you?
No, wait, don't answer that. I know exactly how you are (along with how many bowel movements you have, your favorite cheese, and the name of your grandfather's Proctologist), because you blab it in every open space near my office suite; the hallways, the bathrooms, the lobbies, the weight room... it's enough to make me want to pour Ex-Lax in your water cooler.

The last I checked, the following apply to you:

1. You have your own office.
2. You have access to cash with which to buy candy, and a bowl to put it in.
3. You have your own cell phone.
4. You have the ability to put your makeup on while parked as well as while driving.

I fail, then, to understand why you insist on plaguing me with your constant jibber-jabbering annoyances. There are over 100 different tenants in this office park; the least you can do is stick to some common courtesies.

However, since I am a conscientious Co-Inhabitant of Office Land, I have brainstormed a (brief) list of solutions.

1. Stop conducting business (or referencing your "biiiiidness") in the common areas of the office park.
(The lobby of our building, while generic and outdated, is a bright, open area where many of the tenants like to take their breaks, stretch their legs, and escape from office politics for a little while. Why, then, do you insist on conducting business calls in our Safe Place?! I have lost count of how many times I've been taking a breather or calming myself down over some new drama, when someone comes stomping in to the lobby, swearing on and on about the latest batch of financial reports.
This, Oh Ruiner of Times Enjoyable, is what my brain then runs through:
1. Oh JEEBUS, they're annoying.
2. Wait... did he just say "actuarial"?
3. Oh, shityshityshitshit, I haven't booked ____'s hotel room, and he's giving his presentation on Friday!
4. No! Friday is our executive meeting!! I haven't run financials or done the blanket approvals for AP/AR, and it's already 4:00!
5. WHY AM I NOT BACK AT MY DESK SLAVING AWAY?!?!
6. Ooh, a penny...!
This doesn't just extend to business calls - calls that you could be making IN YOUR OFFICE... the one you're paying RENT for - but to personal or side-business as well. For the 70th time, I do not want to buy Avon, host a Tupperwear party, join the La Leche League of Bellevue, co-sponsor your child's (likely crappy) soccer team, volunteer at Little People's Anonymous, or help you pick out scrapbook designs.)

2. Stop pretending to stop by to chat when your entire focus is on my candy dish.
(Don't make it dirty. Now... here's where you're really running into a problem: I'm a (part)Jewish girl, who happens to handle our organization's finances, and who also happens to have a 1.5 year old at home. Do you know what that means, Oh Eater of My Edible Excellencies? I can be the stingiest penny-counter you have ever met. Do you then think it wise to 'stop by for a quick chat' in order to consume handful after handful of the candy I just bought for our office and legitimate visitors? If so, keep eating... I've left a niiiice piece of strychnine in there for you.)

3. Instead of telling your coworker the details of last night's diarrhea marathon while walking down the hallway, up your text message allotment on your cell phone and take that route instead.
(Just this morning, I walked in to the Women's bathroom on the second floor of the 'B' building. Both stalls were occupied... but that didn't kill the conversation going on inside, nope. Two women were conducting verbal comparisons of the color of urine they had produced. Please, stop and contemplate what walking in on that conversation was like for me.
...
..
.
Just STOP IT!)

4. Repeat after me: "Drive... park... then apply mascara."
(Your boss would rather you show up alive and well (hooray, productivity!) than hobbling and bleeding (hooray, Krystal's temper!). I promise. You know what else I promise, Oh Swerver of the SUV? I promise that the next time I come grill-to-grill with your car in the parking lot because you didn't want to wait the 35 seconds it would take to park before applying your layers of makeup, I will not swerve out of your way. You'll get a to buy me a new car, and I'll never let you forget it. I mean, really... how good of a job are you going to do on your makeup if you're having the ever-so-inconvenient responsibility of operating a two-ton motor vehicle anyway? I'm just looking out for you.)

All-in-all, I'd say this was a very therapeutic letter. I was able to get things off my chest and, if you were to read this, you would (of course) take all of my suggestions to heart and magically transform yourself into the Considerate Examples of Professional Neighbors that I know you have inside of you.

In all honesty, this is one of the nicest places - location and building-wise - I've ever had the privilege to work out of... second only to the Port of Seattle (but, really, who can compete with a saltwater stream running the length of the ground floor... or being on a pier in Seattle, with a view of the Blue Angels as they fly by... or being only 5 minutes from Pike Place... or - ah! Ok. Sorry...). I guess what I'm trying to say is that everyone has contributed to making this a safe, well-maintained place to work, and that is something I seriously appreciate.

Now, stop cat-calling to all the construction men outside. You're making it increasingly difficult for me to lure one back to my office.

See you in the bathroom,

Krystal

Things That Go... Crash.

Dear Operators of Motorized Vehicles ,

In a world where technology abounds, literature is engrossing, and applying ones makeup takes more time than can be scrounged before leaving the house, our vehicles seem to have become the 'catch-all' of our lives. Swerving by me in countless numbers, you astound me with the amount of circuitry protruding from your ears, newspapers and/or novels in your hands, and double cheeseburgers hanging from your mouths. Where do you find the attention or, rather, the ability to drive?

Oh, wait. You don't.

Guess what the green light means? (Here's a hint, it doesn't mean "adjust your cleavage", "update your Facebook status", or "stir another pack of sugar into your coffee".)

The following is a list of things that, to the best of my knowledge, apply to you and the Wonderful World of Driving:

1. Double-parking is fine... if you are driving a hearse.
2. "SUV" does not equal "Compact", nor does your "lack of brains" equal "handicapped".
3. You are not part-vulture.
4. Cutesy decals on your rear window is grounds for a rear-ending, "Baby on Board" or not.
5. Just because something looks funny (like, oh, a Roundabout), it doesn't mean that all bets are off.

I fail, then, to understand how things could have gotten so out-of-hand. Didn't we all have to take the same drivers' test? Shouldn't we be looking out for each other on this, the great Road of Life, instead of throwing back another coffee, flipping the bird, and playing I-5 bumper cars?

However, since I have pledged to forever don my Seat-belt of Safety, I have brainstormed a (brief) list of solutions for you, Oh Operator of the Auto.

1. I don't care how nice your new ride is; keep it inside ONE parking space.
(I know what it's like to be in a hurry, I do; you overslept, your child is crying, there was a line of DMV-proportions at the drive-through Starbucks, and now your boss is calling, demanding that you pick up 10 boxes of toner for GodKnowsWhatCrazyProject... but parking your car in a dead straddle over the dividing line of two parking spaces? Not cool. The excuse of "Oh, I wasn't paying attention!" isn't very reassuring, either. I'm supposed to feel okay with that? Logic leads me to think that you probably "weren't paying attention" for the majority of your drive. *shudder* Oh, and I'm ever so happy that you have the funds to purchase and drive a Spyder convertible... but slanting your car across two slots just so no one dings your precious Penis Compensator? Sooooo not acceptable. Whenever I see an expensive car deliberately double-parked like that, my hands start twitching and making their way to the keys in my purse, almost begging me to write a nice "Hello, Douche-waffle" note on your door. Which leads me to...)

2. Stop thinking that the rules of parking don't apply to you.
(Yes... I know, Dear Driver, this point coincides rather closely with the previous, but you do know the reason for that, don't you? I can't take any more of this double-standard crap whilst on the road! It's enough that I had to live with it during my childhood... *cough*... anyway, I do not need it from you! I am an SUV-driver. I have a 2002 Saturn Vue that, while it may be labeled as a 'mid-sized SUV' and could, theoretically, fit into a compact space, I park in spaces that will not cause direct or indirect damage to those I have parked next to, or whom may choose to park next to me. It goes beyond common courtesy, m'dear... it's THE LAW. Those pretty markings on the ground aren't decorations meant to enhance the color of your pretty BMW - no, those are words... words that say "Compact Only". Oh, and just so we're clear, parking in a handicapped spot because you're "just going to be a minute", don't feel well, or are too stupid to read the sign isn't an excuse, either.)

3. Stop circling the parking lot like a bird about to dive.
(I know you really, really want that primo spot by the front of the store, but you're holding up fifteen other cars who don't have the maneuverability to get around you while you sit there with your hazards on. Believe me, honey; the only hazard here is that you sit there, pretending not to notice the backup, while gulping down your second quad-grande extra caramel Caramel Frappucino of the day. Your ass could use a little exercise - park a few rows back.)

4. ENOUGH with the stick-figure-families, already.
(Why, my Commuting Cutie, do you feel the need to cover your rear window in cheesy stickers that tell everyone everything about your family? Don't you already do this on Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, etc...? Before you know it, your car will look like this, and I'll be forced to kill you to save my own sanity.
A couple of witty stickers or decals? Totally fine.
(I have one that talks about tattooed moms on the PTA. Gets a laugh every time.)
Row after row of "Baby on Board", "Save a horse, ride a cowboy", "Cowgirl up!", "The Hansen Family", and a sticker from every single concert you've seen...? Nutty.)

4. Just because a traffic function is idiotic, doesn't mean you get to ignore it.
(Sweet Steerer of my Soul, pay attention here. Roundabouts are the Department of Transportation's way of making sure you're paying attention... and then eating your soul if you are not. As my good friend Kim said, "(Roundabouts are) possibly the biggest waste of tax dollars ever because people are too retarded to figure out how to use them. Traffic lights are simple. Red means stop. Green means go. Yellow means floor it. Very simple. At the roundabout, people can't drive because they're too busy trying to decipher the heiroglyphics on the signs to see which lane they're supposed to be in. RE-TAR-DED." I will be the first (er, second) to say that these Whirly-Swirley Cycles of Death are about the stupidest traffic-control creation since crossing guards, but the fact is that they are here, and we have to live with them. Just because they look kind of fun and make you think back to doing donuts in the parking lot does not mean you can just catapult yourself into the intersection (which, yes, is exactly what this is) and think that you'll be fine. Maybe.)

All-in-all, I'd say this was a very therapeutic letter. I was able to get things off my chest and, if you were to read this, you would (of course) take all of my suggestions to heart and magically transform yourself into the Glowing Example of Driver Safety that I know you have inside of you.

I know you're busy. I know you're stressed, you're tired, and you are most likely over-worked. I can understand how the brain can switch to auto-pilot when you start to do a familiar task such as driving; it's something that most of us have done since our teenage years. Just remember that driving safely and parking responsibly isn't just for you... it's for everyone else on the road, feeling just as stressed, tired, and over-worked as you are.

Like me, the girl with the really, really good aim... looking for just one more reason to get her concealed weapons permit.

Honk if you love kitties,

Krystal