There’s a girl here in the department who, while fairly nice, is driving me absolutely batty. She’s about 27, comes to work in clothes that are practically painted on (which, strangely enough, tend to hide her knee pads, which she must surely use because I have yet to meet a bigger suck up: meow), and don’t even ask me about her make-up job. Anyhow, she’s been with the same guy since her teens, and is absolutely looking forward to her wedding day, which she states will be in about 18 months. (!) Every lunch hour, she gets out her “Let’s Get Married/Marrions-nous” 500-page catalogue, deciding on which dress she’s going to wear, which photographers she’s going to hire (you know, two photographers are better, and these two she has in mind are really good because they take candid photos and not staged photos because staged photos don’t come out as well don’t you know and these two are really good bla bla), her wedding hall, etc. etc. ad nauseum. At one point, she was asked how much she expected this little “do” of hers to cost. “Oh, not much,” she replied, “only $50,000.” Wha?
This goes on every lunch hour. I leave the office, come back, and she’s still clutching that damned catalogue to her bosom as though it’s her long-lost teddy bear (Baba!). There’s one other woman who is willing to listen to her, but come lunchtime, earphones magically appear on everyone else, CDs get popped into the players, and everyone tunes out. Every day, every week, since she started five months ago. I just don’t understand it.
Update Thursday It’s started again, now talking about the cost per plate, which is a bargain at only $90 per. The gaggle is piercing the earphones.