Mad Monday.

Another gem written a while ago, about a time even further back. A mad afternoon.

Workplace lack of etiquette?

Never having been one for over-sharing personal issues in the workplace, I was quite confronted by the events of what is now locally referred to as Mad-Monday, where everybody seemed to have thought it was bring-your-crazy-to-work day.

In a mere four-hours I was exposed to more sources of crazy than I had previously seen in any period of less than, a week, no a month, no possibly a year.

At the time, after the fact, I had many a discussion with friends about it, and I always wanted to write it down. Now I feel enough time has passed that publishing it will be ok.

This first interaction is not funny at all, but a person I worked with asked to take me out for a coffee, and then once there told me a deeply personal, and tragic story about a recent death of someone very close to them.

This was a deeply sad and troubling event, but I don’t understand why they told me, and in particular why so much detail. Why so many tears and why choose me, a relative stranger, to tell? I mean, yes, I was empathetic and offered what soothing, genuine advice I could, but when I got back to my desk it was all I could do to stare at my computer with a stunned mullet look on my face.

Did that open a vortex of over-sharing?

This was how I was when crazy number two showed up, and I felt that somehow, that first story had opened a vortex to an afternoon of gratuitous over-sharing.

A recent recruit into my general work area asked if he could take me out for a coffee. This guy was really chatty, and I had sometimes shared a morning cup of tea with him in the lunchroom, so this was a bit unusual. However, in my muted state I agreed to go, potentially thinking I could unload some of the recent crazy I had been subjected to, onto him.

But, no. As soon as our coffee was delivered he puffed up his chest, and grabbed the table with both hands and proceeded to tell me that he couldn’t stop thinking about me, and that he found ways of mentioning my name in the conversation at home (to his WIFE!), and that he demanded to know if I felt the same way.

Ahhh, no. I did not. I would not, could not, did not, don’t. I said ‘what are you talking about? You’re married!’

He insisted that this shouldn’t be a factor.

I insisted that it should. And was. And is!

He insisted on asking what if he wasn’t married?

I, being nice, said: ‘But you are!’

He persisted with: ‘What if I wasn’t?’

I said, understanding as I do, the complexities of the male ego, and the delicacies of working in close proximity with people that as soon as I know someone is married I don’t even consider them in that light.

He kept pushing, but I didn’t budge, I mean, he’s short, bald and married – he did not want to hear what I had to say. Although I could hear Elaine from Seinfeld screaming “You’re bald!” And that kind of made me laugh, on the inside.

I strongly suggested that we leave all of this silliness at that table, and never mention it again.

I got up and walked back to my work, after all, this is a work day!

And then…

My phone was ringing when I got out of the elevator. It was a friend whose medical condition requires him to give blood regularly to alleviate the iron load in his system (Hemochromatosis) .

He was ringing to tell me that he is so stressed in his job that his blood pressure is now too high to give blood, and that, combined with his condition is only adding to the problem.

He was worried because he may have to go on permanent meds to keep his blood pressure down.

Feeling helpful, I suggested that he could give blood by getting the nurse to stand across the room and taking the needle out, then she could catch it as it spurts across the room. He laughed, because he gets me, and job done, I hung up.

What now?

Attempting to return to desk my phone was again ringing. It was the young fellow I had been seeing, who wanted to catch up as he was in the neighbourhood and wanted to talk to me about something.

Oh god! What could it be? I couldn’t not go. Not after the afternoon I’d been having.

Thankfully he just wanted to end our relationship! Phew!

Needless to say, I had to have a wine that night.