The Consequences of Earshot

I've always been a merciless eavesdropper but much as Alaphia points out here about its merits, it has its own consequences... on one's sanity!

We have a Flexidesk system at work - Flexidesk is companyspeak for "Let's see if you can reach early enough to catch a chair, the number of which outnumber by 2:1, the building's occupants". A.K.A. "Gotcha".

What this hustle means is that one's neighbour varies everyday, an absurdist human lottery of sorts... the glorious gongura-pickle eating South Indian, the Frenchman going brrrppoooofff all the time, the Arab who seems to hiss at/curse everyone's grandfathers, the stinky nerd with the shiny Mac, the woman with hula-hoops on her ears impeccably complemented by a Chanel No.5 forcefield and the occassional tobbaco chewing Texan. All stereotypes duly make their appearance at regular intervals.

Today, however, is an outlier of a day. There is a plain looking 55+ year old man next to me. Harmless almost, until he gets on the phone. Wears a tie, really looks white but speaks Sinhalese to his relatives. He varies his accent depending on whom he speaks to and presents his complicated surname to Brit callers in two simple syllables. He calls his niece on the office phone to tell her friend about not mentioning his Tamil origin on his UK visa application.

Needlessly funny at most times, he tells a caller to hold on for a second while he weeps in the corner and comes back. To another, he shares the discovery of his professional incompetence by the company (in a hushed tone) and shares his new responsibilities which may include shredding blank paper and fetching vanilla tea. He has been apparently reassigned as part of a management shakeup (he shakes himself, his chair and MY desk, somehow communicating the agony of it all, down the thin copper line) and is awaiting his new role.

He explains to his cousin how senior managers in the firm are practititioners of the exotic language of Jar-Gon-Ese and also how his new boss was supposed to turn up to tell him what to do but has been AWOL for the last 5 days and so he enjoys the sun in the office atrium but has regretfully left his suntan lotion at home.

Then he calls to check on his aunt in a care-home. On being told that she is asleep, he signs off thus "Tell her that her little nephew, 'S' called and that he is praying for her daily".

The wonder, the horror. Yet another day winds down.

Image sourced from here.