Dear Diary,

I'm back again. I thought I would just tell you a little bit about where I work.

I have to share an office with a really controlling woman. Thank goodness she is only here one or two days a week, or else I think it would not be possible to share a space with her.

Cause she doesn't like to share!

GreedyPants is her name. At one point my printer was on the blink, so the computer guy came in and hooked me up to her printer. GreedyPants had a fit that I had to use it too, and left a note on my desk to please tell the computer guy to fix my printer ASAP. Not like she's even here a lot. She's noted for not making room for anyone else and keeping office supplies, like innocent erasers and paperclips, hostage.

Yesterday the girl from the office next door, LoudTalker, asked if she could come in and use the typewriter in our office. I said sure, no big deal. LoudTalker took one of GreedyPants' chairs from behind her desk to use at the typewriter (yes, GreedyPants insists that she needs two chairs at her desk -- why? I do not know!! Talk about living on the scarcity model).

Anyway, fast forward to today:

GREEDYPANTS: Duck, were you using the typewriter today?

ME: Um, no.

GP: Well.

ME: Oh, LoudTalker was using it yesterday, she needed to type something.

GP: Well, she didn't put my chair back!

Mind you, this leaves the chair, um, about 1.5 feet from its original position. 1.5 FEET, PEOPLE.

I had to stifle my immediate response, which was to tell GreedyPants that I was sure that somehow, she'd be able to pick up the pieces and move on.

Sometimes I think that office spaces are nothing more than venues for everyone to showcase their personality disorders.

BabyTalk works down the hall. She is about 52 years old and weighs at least 250 pounds, so you can imagine how disconcerting it is to hear her say something like, "I haf a widdle tummy twouble today." No, it's not a lisp, or mental incapacity. It's some sort of alternate personality she slips into at times. Usually when it's your turn to talk about yourself.

The guy in the office across the hall throws tantrums regularly, but swears instead of resorting to baby talk. I can hear him banging around his phone, and punching, I mean PUNCHING, the keys on his computer. He also yells at people incessantly on the phone when things aren't working out, which seems to be often.

I could go on and on, but why bother? It's like 12 Monkeys in here.

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