Sucking at the Teat of a Passive Agressive Life

Although I work for a certain company, I actually work in a separate building from everyone else (a complicated story involving mergers, SEC rulings, and a night in Thailand I'm not at liberty to discuss) so I don't have regular face-to-face interactions with most of my colleagues. Thus, when I do see them in the flesh, it is a slightly awkward experience for all involved. I'm not super chummy and they don't really know who I am so after the "Hey, how's it going?" we have nothing to say, although we somehow feel we should continue this socially painful interaction further with something completely meaningless like "Nice weather, huh?" or "Any big plans this weekend?" [And if I say, "No, not really" they feel like they need to validate me: "Oh, well, sometimes it's nice to just relax," as if I cared what they thought of my weekend] Really, I just want to go away, I want them to go away, I want neither of to ever meet face-to-face again. But this is not to be.

One woman was supposed to give me a copy of a book I had done some work on. In October. I actually got the book from someone else (unbeknownst to this woman), but every time I see this woman she says, "Oh, I need to get you that book." I say something noncommital like, "Okay, whenever" and she says something proactive like "I promise you'll get it. You WILL get it."

I am pretty sure I will never get it.

One man—my boss' boss—used to say every time we saw each other, "I really need to come visit your office." He had said this to me about twenty times over the course of a year. He redeemed himself only once by saying, "Every time I see you, I say 'I need to visit you.'"

Needless to say, he has never visited.

I don't really care about either of these things too much, but to these people, they obviously mean something important, something to do. Why don't they just shut up and do them? Why doesn't the woman just give me the book so we can go back to the awkward conversations about my lame weekends? Why doesn't the man just come visit so we can stop speaking to each other altogether?

I told a friend I would burn a CD of the cheesy music we used to listen to in high school. She said she would do the same for me. We have neither of us done this, though I am constantly thinking, "Man, I should really make that damn thing." Why don't I just do it?

Because, oddly, discomfort is soothing. Anger is cozy. Depression is a nuk. When we shed our skins, not matter how rotten they are, we're naked. And when you finally do the thing you always said you were going to do, you lose the possibility of doing it. You lose the power you had over the person who was waiting for that thing to be done (however slight, however imagined).

I think, perhaps, I will never make that CD for my faraway friend. Then, on my deathbed, I'll whisper into my grown-up child's ear: Roxette.