Posted by: kristabella | March 20, 2007

What Did You Say? I’m Not Talking to You!

I totally talk to myself. I’m not afraid to admit it. (How can you be when you’re around people all day so they catch you talking to your Goddamned self?) Seriously, I don’t even know that I’m doing it.

My office is wide open. No walls. It’s the Bullpen. It’s that whole collaborative feel. All that camaraderie crap and yada, yada. Nothing is sacred. I mean, when you’re on the phone, the people on the other end, they think that you’re at a party. I was on the phone today with a consultant in Seattle and our office was loud and he thought I was having a whole ‘nother conversation whilst pretending to listen to him. (Man did I wish.) Nope, we’re just fun. “It’s the bullpen,” I tell him. “The bullpen? We call it the hotel room,” he says. “The hotel room?” “You must call it the bullpen because you’re in Chicago. You know, because of the Chicago Bulls.”

And then I hung up. Because he? Is the stupidest person ever.

(Man do I wish!)

So everyone is all up in yo biz-nass in my office. Which, again if you know me, I luuurrrrve! Because I’m one nosey motherfucker. And I can totally listen to one conversation and have my own. Well, I could before I got TiVo. And now it’s a wonder I remember to zip my fly. Or put on deodorant. Or go to work at all. Every day is Saturday!(In my head that totally was all in this high-pitched girly-man voice. Kinda like Homer when he does his girlie voice.) (And there it is. It all comes back to TV.)

But that kind of atmosphere works really well in our office. Because we are all cool. And are very funny. And we do it because it’s a Seattle thing and they own us. But even our managing director, who has the only office, wants to be out with the commoners. Again, because we’re funny and all up in yo grillz.

(I can go on all day with this bit, boyeee.)

So anyway, I don’t make any personal calls. Thank God e-mail is quiet. Unless you type all loud like I do. But that seems like I’m working and am just mad fucking busy. When in fact I’m usually trading IMs with someone about gossip.

But some days I miss the cubicle walls. They aren’t much different that the bullpen. It’s not like those walls drown out any noise. If you know me, I’m one loud ass motherfucker. But at least people aren’t staring at you, full on knowing that you are not conducting business.

And apparently? I make faces when I work. And I have no idea. I mean most of them are “what the fuck?” faces when something goes wrong. Or mi no comprende. I mean I have a fucking wrinkle on my forehead from doing my “what the fuck?” face so many times. So many stupid people.

And I talk to myself. But that is not new. Ask any person I have ever worked with. They all got used to it. (I’m hoping this gets The Jens to comment. She knows. She also knows how loud I type.) I used to have a desk by the intern at the 49ers. He would get so irritated for like a month because he always thought I was talking to him. Finally, he figured out that he’ll know when I am talking to him. “Just listen for your name Quinn. You’re so pretty.”

Then I moved to the cubes and it took Jo Bag and The Jens awhile to figure out. I talk. Again, if you know me, not really a news bulletin. It’s what I do. I yell at the computer. I talk back to emails. What kind of workplace would it be if we didn’t? We don’t live in Russia, people!

The girl I work with now, who sits across from me, we face each other and get to stare deep into each other’s eyes (thank God we just got monitors!) We’re like Mike Brady and Mike Brady’s co-worker at the architecture firm. Except the desks aren’t slanty. And neither of us is gay. Or has a bad perm. Anyway, she talks to herself too. She calls out the name of the person before she calls them. So she’ll look at her phone and say “Dennis Badonkadonk” and then call him on the phone.

Today I was talking about something. I don’t know what. It’s a good thing I even remembered to get up this morning. Let’s not get into the details. (And no, I don’t want you telling me that maybe drinking for 8 hours on Saturday led to not remembering.) (Actually, go right ahead. I won’t fucking remember anyway.) And our di-rector came out of his posh window office and was all “you’re doing it again.” And I’m like “what? Making faces?” “No.” “Snoring?” “No. “Typing too loud?” “No.” “Knitting?” “No. Talking to yourself.” “Oh.”

At least when you do it in the car you can pretend you’re singing.



  1. hey, i think i’m coming to chicago in april… let’s drink!

  2. $tabone, you always crack me up.
    Welllllllllll….shoot! I talk to myself OUT LOUD all the time too….I’m doing it now. Hereditary? I miss the cube walls tho cuz this place is like being in a fish bowl…not bullpen…and I sit by a major aisle so you never know who’s going to hear you.

  3. Hahahahaha! At my old job I had a receptionist-like desk (even though I wasn’t the rec.) on the second floor and felt like people were always watching my faces and my mouthing along to songs. I hated it. I was about to move into an office when I left. Bust!

  4. Ohhhhh! I was totally into Quinn. He was hot! Remember how bummed I was when he saw me come out of the porta-potty in the “A” lot? That sucked. Not sure if Mike Brady’s work desk faced anyone…..

  5. Mom, that wasn’t even funny. Don’t encourage him.

    Quinn was pretty.

    It would be nice to have an office one day. Now I have something to work towards.

  6. I was just “chastised” (seriously) for talking to myself out loud….I told you this main aisle seating sucks.

    Sorry, but $tabone is funny. I laughed out loud this AM when I read his comment since it has NOTHING to do with this post. It’s like he doesn’t have your email address or phone number…he needs to use your blog to contact you. It made me laugh.

  7. thanks, “mom!”

  8. Our office is the same way. Everyone gives me dirty looks when I’m giggling at my computer, but I think they’re just jealous that no one’s making them laugh on IM!

  9. I bought my wife a beta fish for her Valentines day (its’ what she wanted!!!!), now she sits in her office and talks to it… :o) Today, apparently, there is a mouse running around so I knowing the people that work there nothing will get done today. Moral of the post, if its’ ‘animate’ you can have a conversation with it 😀

  10. I like that moral.

    IM is totally animate. And my computer mouse moves.

    That’s what I’ll tell them the next time I get caught talking to myself.

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