Over the years I have been, for the most part, lucky enough to work in close proximity to people who don't make me want to poke out my own eyes. The women, and men, I have had to share space with have had few bad qualities and have somehow not found my bad qualities that objectionable. Either that or they just haven't had the balls to say anything. Both are a win in my book.
Currently, I share seven feet of desk space with a woman named Molly. I don't like to play favorites, but Molly is in the desk mate top ten out of all the people I could possibly share a desk with in the whole wide world. Oh, and I actually love playing favorites.
Molly and I are both theater drop outs with wicked senses of humor fueled by mean streaks neither of us like to admit we have and try hard to conceal. When I write that out it makes us sound bad, but really, we're a lot of fun.
Life isn't all snarky remarks on Twitter and critiquing the "Today" show though. There is a darker side to getting along so well with someone at work. A side few people like to talk about.
No, not cocaine. We work in television news, not high finance. We can't even afford cocaine knock offs. No kokane for us. Ours is a much cheaper, yet just as bloating addiction: Cup O'Noodles.
Molly and I each blame the other for bringing this salty, chicken flavored, oh so delicious scourge from the mini mart downstairs to our desk. I guess it doesn't matter who started it any more though.
When we started it was just when we really needed a pick me up, or on special occasions. Soon though, it was every day. We made excuses to head to the mini mart. Breath mints. V8. To check if the cottage cheese cups had finally expired. We knew why we were really going though. And each time, whichever one of us went made sure to bring back two. After all, it's easier to do something so wrong if you aren't acting alone.
We've gone on like this for month. Pretending we just really like water. Like our fingers are swollen because of the heat. Like the three freeze dried peas are a serving of vegetables.
I knew it was a real problem though today, when I went into the grocery store and this sight almost brought me to my knees:
Okay, not just the sight of it. The fact my first thought was "how many do we need." You know, because one case definitely wouldn't be enough for two women over 30 searching for hypertension.
I have to tell Molly it's over. We have to stop chasing the MSG dragon, or go ask Alice for some diuretics, or look for Nissan Anonymous. There have to be 12 steps for this. I'm guessing at least one is admitting "just add water" is not the answer to all problems.
We'll just have to take it one day at a time.
It's either that, or eventually co-workers will find us under our desk, snorting salt right from the shaker.
Then both of us will definitely go on the "do not sit by" list.