Memo: Whether I freak out today is up to you

 

To: HN
From: RM
Re: What you can do to not have me freak out today.

I woke up today feeling great. The sun was shining, my car was still in the driveway, and the cat hadn’t thrown up in the night.

It had all the portents of not being a shitty day.

And then I come in to work, and I’m with you for 47 seconds and all that is out the window.

Look, I am holding my shit together.

For now.

But whether I continue to hold my shit together is up to you.

Because I am now on the verge of freaking out.

Look, we’ve known this has been coming. Since my last freakout, we’ve known this was coming.

Since I last freaked out, I think I’ve done a pretty goddamn admirable job of not freaking out again.

Because if there’s anyone who can share an office with you and go this long between freakouts, I’d like to meet him/her.

But now here we are. On the knife’s edge of another freakout of me. At the border crossing into Freakoutistan.

Do you want to know? Are you at all interested?

Interested, I mean, in what YOU can do to prevent ME from tipping over into a state of full-fledged freakoutdom?

Well, let’s start with how you take the wrapper off your energy bars. Because I think that’s an area that represents both the best opportunity for me to freak out and the best opportunity for you to prevent me from freaking out.

If you WANTED me to freak out, all you’d have to do is remain in this office while you ever so meticulously unwrap the crinkly goddamn wrappers from your energy bars.

28 seconds. That’s your average time for removing the crinkly wrappers from your energy bars. You didn’t know that, did you?

That’s up from 26 seconds last year.

Oh, yes. I’ve been tracking your efforts to drive me insane for a long time now.

Now, if you DON’T WANT me to freak out, it would simply be a matter of taking your energy bar, leaving the office, unwrapping your energy bar, and returning to the office.

I don’t give a shit where you go to open it, and I don’t give a shit if you eat it at your desk. I just don’t want to hear that crinkly unwrapping OR I WILL GUARAN-GODDAMN-TEE FREAK THE FUCK OUT.

So, that’s one thing you can do. Or not. Like I said, it’s up to you.  

Another thing you can do? To prevent me from freaking out, I mean?

Talk on the goddamn phone in a goddamn normal tone of voice.

News flash: When you’re on a call, you don’t need to talk as loud as your lungs will allow.

That’s what the TELEPHONE IS FOR! So we can hear each other over long distances without shouting!

Try it! Your officemate just might not freak out if you do.

On the other hand, if you don’t try speaking in a normal voice on the telephone today, I can say with a high degree of certainty that your officemate will be freaking out. 

I think we can leave it there for now. If you can just manage those two little things, just for today, I am willing to meet you halfway by not freaking out on your ass.

If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to swivel around in your squeaky fucking chair and ask.

RM