Look Who's Talking starring...My Office.

So...hello again. I tried to look over this blog to see if I mentioned the phenomena in my office known as "Baby Talk" and I was just beyond surprised when I learned I hadn't. This quite possibly is my number one office peeve. For those of you who are unsure about what it is or have not had the misfortune of working in an office setting, let me explain this vileness.

Generally it's a woman...actually I don't think I've ever had a man do the baby talk thing in an office ever. I think because if a man did do it...he would have his man card permanently taken away (if it hadn't been already) and other ritualistic beheadings (if you catch my drift). Picture a woman...usually around late 30's-early 40's....has probably resided in her job for about 10+ years so she feels quite comfortable with the people around her. She probably figures...well if they haven't taken me out to the woodshed yet for a beating, they probably never will. I would like to begin this process actually as I feel it's the only fitting punishment for giving me headaches or making my ears bleed.

You've now pictured this person and perhaps even know of said person from your office. This woman...whenever she talks to someone, generally she does this when she needs something. She decides to go back to when she had a 2 year old child and talk to you like you are that child. Usually the conversation starts with "Hiiiiii Huuuuuuuuunny, Hoooow arrrre yoooooou". These words usually start the bleeding process in my ears. If it's a particular day where my ears have no blood left in them, the sounds go directly to the rest of my brain which I'm sure causes it to bleed.

The next parts to the conversation insist that I sit there and help dem with whateva widdle teensy weensie widdle pwoblem them have. There is one person here that does this while trying to rub your shoulders which I equate to rubbing the back of your head while shoving a knife squarely through your brain. The baby talk continues while you try to either plot their death or plot your own. By the time it ends, you really just want to fix whatever the shit they need fixed or die. In an office setting it is customary to help one another so I usually just bow down to the man and fix the issue. It's not unlike a dog bowing down to its master when they have a cookie dangling in front of their face. My milkbone treat is any way that I can stop this 40 year old buffoon from coming over to my desk and making my ears bleed.

I'll have to post another time about the OTHER baby talker in my office. She is definitely worth her own column. I bet you can't wait you widdle funny wunny person you.