Variation on a Theme: Loud Mouth VI

Wrinkly Rena

The last Loud Mouth currently works about two cubes down from me, so I have to be quiet. OK, she has no idea that I blog, so she has no idea that this post will be about her.

When I first started working with this woman, I thought she was in her mid-fifties. She walked very carefully, complained frequently about back problems, and didn't think twice about letting others know of her daily work woes. I worked wither her every once in a while, but until I recently brought it upon myself to demystify some internet mumbo-jubmo at work that no one else wanted to take the time to demystify, I didn't have to worry about hearing about her woes.

Then we moved, and because we both worked on the same mumbo-jumbo (she is in charge of inputting the rules that drive the mumbo-jumbo), we were strategically placed relatively close. While this is convenient, it has also become a bit of a distraction.

You see, Wrinkly Rena's mother is at the point where she needs some additional help and can no longer live by herself. This means that Wrinkly Rena (and slothful siblings) are spending their time trying to get their aging mother comfortable in her new location while going through everything in her house and consolidating. There have been some interesting things I have learned about antique costume jewelery, cars, and her family, but I don't think I was supposed to learn these things. (I did learn on purpose that Wrinkly Rena is only in her early 40's.)

Wrinkly Rena has a very good friend that she shares a cube with. Because they are such good friends, they share a lot with each other. Wrinkly Rena's sharing generally happens at a volume that is not in a confidential tone. There are times when I roll my chair back and look at my co-workers just so I can see their reactions to the TMI that is going on over the wall. Generally I am greeted with wide-eyed deer-in-the-headlights type looks, accompanied with a bit of a grimace. Other times, we end up putting our headphones on and turning up the volume so that we can meet our deadline.

While Wrinkly Rena is quite competent at what she does, I often wonder if she knows how much of her conversations we actually overhear. Being in the middle of the row, I think that a lot of people don't have to ask her personal questions, because they get the answers to everything they want to know (and a whole lot more) without ever having to ask.

Variation on a Theme: Loud Mouth V

Mr. Eleven

The person who fought the most with Hacky was someone who was about 135 degrees away from her, should you have drawn a circle around me. His name is Mr. Eleven because he only had one volume level.

I would have loved to hear Mr. Eleven sing. He had a very rich baritone/bass voice that carried quite well. I think—considering that he wasn't tone deaf— that he would have probably been a pretty desirable singer. His voice had great resonance, and I am pretty sure he could get some of those low notes with power.

The problem was the fact that his primary responsibility was to offer phone assistance to corporate customers. This meant that he was on the phone for most of the day. When I first moved into my location, I found myself standing up and trying to discreetly locate him by his voice. I thought that he was standing over the wall from my cube where the community printers were located to pick up a print job while talking on the phone. When I would stand up, there wouldn't be anyone there.

I finally caught his lips moving one day while I was coming back from a leisurely lunchtime walk. I was amazed to find that he was across the aisle from me, as well as three cubes in. This means that his voice was generally carrying out of the top of his cube, over two other (very patient) people, past the twelve-foot aisle, and over my cube wall.

Yeah, Mr. Eleven is right.

He didn't bother me after a while. I just got so that I could drown out his raspy voice. It became kind of cathartic at times when I was on a call that was completely dis-interesting, or when something was being explained for the fourth time (because at least one person who should have been listening the first two times didn't start listening until the third time, and then proceeded to ask questions that were asked the first time, leaving the presenter no choice but to think that the rest of us on the call were completely lost).

Variation on a Theme: Loud Mouth IV

Hacky

In my current workplace, I used to work in another building on campus. There was a woman who sat three double-rows away from me, but that didn't stop her from being the resident Loud Mouth.

I believe that Hacky was a smoker. She could often be heard having coughing fits. Most time the coughing fits would come, I could swear that everyone around her needed a biohazard suit. From three double-rows away, I could hear the rattle of phlegm in her lungs, as well as the wet spittle flying from her lips. I was surprised that I never heard anyone walk over and exclaim, "I need a medic. Hacky has officially coughed up a lung!"

I could picture her lying prone on her desk, eyes glazed over, fingers twitching uncontrollably. At least one of her lungs would be protruding from her mouth, heaving in and out while trying to assimilate the air around it.

The worst part about Hacky is that these attacks happened multiple times a day. It was never just an every-so-often thing—it was a regular (and sometimes hourly) occurrence.

Variation on a Theme: Loudmouth III

Mrs. Sunshine

My next internship put all of the employees (except the office manager and the two company creators) into a common work space. It was drafty, well-lit with natural lighting, and offered no privacy. That didn't matter much, as most of the company spent its time comparing episodes of South Park online. The desks were in three O's, each having a small opening. Four people sat in each O, facing the outside of the O. In my O, Mrs. Sunshine sat right behind me.

Mrs. Sunshine was a pleasant individual. She lived with her husband (bowling alley chef extraordinaire) and two dachshunds that she treated like children. She was in her late 20's and called everyone by the same term of endearment: honey. If you were really lucky, you would get called sweetie. But she was one of those people who could pull off using terms that are generally reserved for southern belles and greasy spoon waitresses. She fit more into the latter mold.

"What can I get you, Hon?"

Graphic from www.desertusa.com/larasroad

I learned more about this woman's personal struggles than I wanted. I'm not talking about financial struggles, or marriage struggles, or family struggles. I'm talking about medical struggles that most people would feel uncomfortable discussing in a clinical doctor's office behind closed doors. She would openly discuss this information with another married man (awkward) as I would do my best to turn up my headphones or find somewhere else to work.

Variation on a Theme: Loudmouth II

Mr. Folk Rock Engineer

The next corporate position I had was as an intern for a locomotive company. There were four of us interns crammed into two cubicles set up in a portable office. Down the trailer hallway, we had an engineer who happened to love 70's folk rock. By love, I mean he had to have the speakers cranked to 11 in order for him to enjoy the music. While I don't mind some of the music from this era, there were a couple of songs that quickly became infamous for our group of interns.

These special songs would lead to immediate walks, trips to floor to watch manufacturing processes, and nervous glances to see if any of us had gone insane yet. All of these songs generally had at least one intensely repetitive section. The one that still comes to mind has an introduction played on a harmonica that went for about four minutes and seventeen seconds before any words were used. You can only blow in and out of a harmonica so many times without moving your mouth before it becomes annoying.

You can't see it, but this guy's brain is oozing out the other side of his head after listening to that song.

Graphic from 304biztips.com

Needless to say, I didn't last very long at that internship. Part of it was the music, while the other part of it was the fact that our supervisor wanted us on the floor during the whole manufacturing process. That was great and all, but when the process went on 24/7, it was kind of difficult to get all your information from the guys on the floor and do something else (like type up the procedure). While I learned a lot about trains, I didn't learn very much about writing. It could have been the fact that after I had something I could write, I knew that I was going to have to walk back into my cube to vie for a position, followed by being tortured by Mr. Folk Rock Engineer's music.

Variation on a Theme: Loud Mouth I

Today I realized that there is a common phenomenon that is going to occur everywhere I will be employed—unless I somehow manage to score an awesome office somewhere. I would like to dub this phenomenon the "Loud Mouth."

Introduction to the Loud Mouth

If you have ever worked in a cubicle farm, Murphy's Law requires that you are going to have an important task to complete, and to assist you in this process you are given an individual somewhere near you who talks too loud. They might not be right next to you, but they are close enough for you to hear their every conversation. And it seems like most of their conversations are not business-related. They make no effort to be considerate to their peers and just keep talking, ignoring any subtle (or not so subtle) hints.

I'll dedicate some of my next posts to some of the Loud Mouths I have known over the years. If you have any to add please feel free to post them in the comments!

Ursula

When I worked at BSU as a student, I worked for the Student Union Building in the Operations Office. I spent my workdays in an office taking reservations for the Student Union Building meeting facilities while trying to keep on top of the phones and avoid gossip. Down the hall was the Student Union Director's office. Farther down the hall and through a closed door was another department. Their director was the Loud Mouth.

The Director of the other department would hold impromptu events in her space in the Student Union. There were a few offices in her space, but there were also common areas for students to sit and discuss upcoming events and ways that student organizations were interfacing with this department. Neighboring Director was generally very nice to your face, but she really liked to have a good time. Good time in her book was the same as loud. If you didn't get her everything (that she didn't reserve, but swore up and down that she did) for her impromptu party, she became Ursula the Sea Witch when she had hold of King Triton's trident.

*Not to scale

Image from Cracked.com

On a weekly basis (yet never at the same time or day), Ursula would hold impromptu karaoke contests. Because she thought that everyone wanted to hear her staff create new inharmonious melodies to semi-popular songs from a few years ago, she would open the door between our offices and her own. The Operations Director's secretary would quickly get up and close the door, but it was amazing how much sound carried underneath the door, down a hallway, and around the corner into our office. There were times when I had to struggle to keep my eye from twitching while I was talking to a customer when hearing the mixture of bat shrieks and cat fights.

Just as depicted in the Disney's The Little Mermaid, the seas would froth and the storms would brew when she had an issue. This seemed to happen quite frequently. When the SUB Director would pull her into the office to diffuse the issue. It usually took a bit, but I could hear between through two other offices or down the hallway when the thunder was still rolling from these conversations. And generally, the thunder only came from one storm cloud, not both.