Self Control

During a quiet moment sometime around lunchtime last Tuesday, two women walked by my desk. 

That event, in and of itself, was not so blog-worthy but, the portion of their conversation with which I was gifted was priceless.

I work in a cubicle farm.  I sit on the edge of the farm and my left-side cubbie wall borders a hallway that runs by the farm like a babbling brook.  Passersby babble (sometimes to themselves) as they stroll by the farm because nobody thinks about the people on the other side of the wall.

By the brook on the other side of the wall from my humble little hovel is a holy trifecta consisting of a water fountain, a scale, and the male and female bathrooms.  A quadrafecta?  It's hangout central ... and I have never found myself wanting for gossip, good gouge, and just general jibber-jabber.   I only have to listen.

On this day, these two women were discussing getting their hair done:

     Lady 1:  " ... oh and you *know* it's going to be much much bigger this time!"

     Lady 2:  "Yes, but I kind of like it bigger.   Well -- not as big as I liked it when I was younger.  I couldn't *get* it big enough then!"

     Lady 1:  "Oh I've always liked mine big.  But I'm happy if it turns out just okay now.  I'm not so picky anymore."

     Lady 2:  "Now I like it loooooong.  Reeeeaaaally llllooooooooong!"

     Lady 1:  "Ooooh, not me.  That would make my neck sore, y'know?  Because I'd always be having to keep it up all the time ... "


As they continued their journey down the hallway and became inaudible, I am very proud to claim that I was successful in my herculean effort to resist the maddening temptation to stand up and shout out what I wanted to shout over the cubicle wall and down the hallway as they passed.

It was a wonderful moment.  Brief but intense.

** UPDATE ** 15 October 2019 **
Someone musta let the cat outta the bag.  I'm noticing that the girls now whisper, more often than not, when they're gossiping along the babbling brook.