Online Tax Research Group (it’s boring just to write the title)
If you used a computer to mathematically figure out the confirmation 10 people would have to be arranged in to sit as far away from each other as a 30x30 ft room full of chairs would allow, I’d bet it would come up with precisely the configuration in front of me. Fuck you computers; the collective human minds have done this without consciously thinking:
Three of four chairs between each person
Private space extended by:
Me: handbag on one side, remnants of chex mix on a plate on the other
Old guy: hand holding a soda can stretching over to the next chair as if he was going for the reach-around at a movie theatre
Young guy: legs spread far open in that guy kind of way that they do even if you are sitting next to them, to which you can respond by a) moving away from his leg as far as possible, but this most often has the reverse effect of letting him think he can now widen his thighs even more, I am a veteran of the London Underground so well qualified to say this, or b) pressing back against his leg to try and get him to close them up, but this may have him thinking it’s a come on and he just presses back and glances over to check you out; 99% of the time you really don’t want him doing that. A guy touched my leg once on the tube when I was 14. I freaked the fuck out and thought I’d been sexually assaulted. A doctor grabbed my boob once when he was assessing me for another research study. He claimed it was a full examination that included checking for breast cancer. It didn’t even occur to me until very much later that a) he only checked one and it was very swiftly, and b) the research was for a migraine drug and that I had actually been sexually assaulted and could have had him up in court and won money and stuff. Duh.
Smart Lady: Turned to one side, forms she had to fill in on one chair, legs stretched out to the other side as far as they will go without her actually falling off of the chair.
Silence, interrupted by the crunch of the snacks: the aforementioned chex mix and the goldfish I used to so love but now taste artificial and fatty. But then again I used to be quite content with Boone’s Farm and instant coffee, the very thought of which makes me shiver now. The opening of a can of soda like the adverts in a movie theatre showing just how good their sound system is. When did page turning ever get so loud?
Silence, made worse by the noticing of the not silent, getting louder, continuous buzzing of the strip lights.
I’m here to participate in a research group about online tax products. I have a very good opinion on everything. It may not be the right opinion, but it is always a good one, an interesting one, or, just a one as I find in these things many people just don’t speak up, just don’t speak at all, and believe me, it’s not because I’m the one taking over the group discussion as I am very aware and encouraging of letting everyone have their turn, I am an extremely good moderator (it’s my blog, I can puff myself up as much as I like). There is always then the person who does speak up, who doesn’t shut up, and whose opinion is crap. Then I have to intervene.
The discussion itself was hellsa boring; oh my fuck I want to get out of here now, excruciatingly painful, I have to go to the bathroom just to stop myself from dying when normally I can find at least something interesting in these situations boring. Cash in hand though.