Avoiding My Co-Workers

I often felt so uncomfortable interacting with co-workers that I devised all sorts of ways to avoid them.

One of my favorite methods of co-worker avoidance was to spend every single break and lunch hour studying. When anyone would ask me to lunch, I would always say I had to study for a test in accounting, statistics, economics or some other tough-sounding subject. This would usually elicit sympathy and a quick departure.

The fact that it took me over 15 years to graduate from college helped make this a very effective ruse indeed.

I also would make frequent lunch hour trips to libraries and bookstores to obtain "books I needed for classes."

I went on lots of exercise regimes that required me to be out walking during the lunch hour.

When I was in management positions, I simply worked through lunch most of the time.

During my last few years in the workforce, I finally figured out that it was helpful to have a few "safe" topics of general interest that would help me attempt to actually interact with people. Gardening, pets, kids and food (nothing too exotic) usually seemed to work pretty well. I was also mindful to steer clear of topics like beat poetry, philosophy, dumpster diving, politics, gay/lesbian issues- the kinds of things that really interest me-- I felt that I had to be self-censoring all the time to even be marginally accepted in the workplace. This level of alienation creates a constant feeling of anxiety and tension.

I Miss My Old Friends

Over the course of the huge bummer that was my career, I met some people I really liked. It's too bad that I associate these people with jobs and work, because that means it's highly unlikely I will ever seek them out. I'm kind of shy and socially avoidant anyway, so seeking out anybody is kind of challenging, but if the people happen to be former co-workers, chances are it won't be happening. This makes me feel sad. Maybe someday.

One of my favorite co-workers committed suicide. He had a great sense of the absurd, and his outrageous sense of humor helped me get through my five years in one particular call center. He was a good friend, and we would commiserate about how much we couldn't stand all the shit we had to put up with around that place. When I was working in that call center, I hated it so much, that I often considered driving my car off this particular bend in the river, because I thought it would look like an accident. But I couldn't do that to my son, my parents, or the rest of my family and friends.

Sometimes I Google the names of some of my old co-workers. I wonder how they're doing and if they're happy. I remember the cool lady who bought old Barbie dolls at the Goodwill and turned them into Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Cher, and Tina Turner. There was a gal who drove race cars who was absolutely brilliant and one of the most original people I ever met. There was the marketing guy who wanted to be an artist- he actually did this- he's down in Mexico painting & having a groovy life, and I know this from Google.

The yucky nonprofit I worked for was in a sick building. It was built over a parking garage, so all the carbon monoxide fumes would circulate in the air system. People would get mysterious illnesses and get sick and die. People had fibromyalgia, aches and pains, cancer, heart problems, and worsening of existing medical conditions. My supervisor there (the nice one) died. There were at least two cases of brain cancer, and at least two cases of lung cancer and breast cancer- several of these people were my friends. One was the Union steward who organized the Union there; she died of lung cancer and she had never even smoked. The Union was having the air tested because many people were growing concerned about the sick building syndrome there. I don't know what the final outcome of that was, because I left.