It's the little things
It is my opinion, that in break rooms, and smoking areas across America, there is a very finite number of conversations that take place. In my particular place of employ, I've counted 7, some, of course, more popular than others.
And so it happened that a few minutes ago I was outside smoking, and having one of the more popular conversations that takes place, a continual rant about the startling incompetence of our "sister" call center, (known as 622) when along came another co-worker, who asked if we were talking about 622. We replied in the affirmative, and I mentioned my theory that it was one of the 7 possible conversations we could be having, and glibly stated that next we would talk about the weather, or what day of the week it is, everybody halfheartedly chuckled, and conversation ebbed for a moment, until another co-worker joined us, and commented upon the lovely sunshine. "I hope it stays this way" replied co-worker #1, "it's supposed to be nice all week" stated co-worker #2, and then it was my turn, I just looked at co-worker #1 and said "SEE?"
And so it happened that a few minutes ago I was outside smoking, and having one of the more popular conversations that takes place, a continual rant about the startling incompetence of our "sister" call center, (known as 622) when along came another co-worker, who asked if we were talking about 622. We replied in the affirmative, and I mentioned my theory that it was one of the 7 possible conversations we could be having, and glibly stated that next we would talk about the weather, or what day of the week it is, everybody halfheartedly chuckled, and conversation ebbed for a moment, until another co-worker joined us, and commented upon the lovely sunshine. "I hope it stays this way" replied co-worker #1, "it's supposed to be nice all week" stated co-worker #2, and then it was my turn, I just looked at co-worker #1 and said "SEE?"