Already mentioned this in the Stupid Things Non-Writers Say thread, but decided it deserved its own.
At my shitty little job I work a seven-hour day which is technically six hours long, as I have a break for one hour which I take slap bang in the middle to break my day up into even halves.
And I eat my sammiches and read my book.
Or at least, I try to.
Because someone always, always, always, inevitably comes out with something like, "What are you reading now?" or, "You're always reading!" or, "You're anti-social; you've always got your nose in a book!"
To which I want to reply, "No I'm not, because you're interrupting me," or "Well, I'm always trying to," or "I prefer reading, to talking to dimwitted oafs like you."
And there are some right annoying swines who approach me and actually move the book while I'm reading it, to see the cover!!!
Now, there are some very very good people at this place of work. Don't get me wrong. There are some shitheads there; I've moaned about them in one of my many "I hate my job!" threads. But there are a select few people with whom I've swapped numbers, and want to keep in touch with after my contract ends in three glorious weeks, because I like them. I won't name them for reasons of privacy, but there's the make-up counter girl who coloured in my face for me the other week. The noisy girl from childrenswear who never shuts up. The bloke on menswear who keeps making sexual innuendos about my arse (don't worry davids; I told him keep off!!!). The guy from the loading bay who spent some time trying to put a smile on my face today when I burst into tears. God bless 'em all.
But. Here's the thing.
No matter how much I like you; no matter who you are, when I am reading, I want the whole world to f*** off.
Honestly. If I was deep into Gone With the Wind and Joaquin Phoenix burst into the room wearing nothing but a smile, carrying a job lot of prophylactics, I'd be hard pushed to tear myself away from Scarlett and Rhett.
Well, okay, I'd compromise. I'd ask if he minded if I read over his shoulder...
But my point is this.
I know it seems rude to other people who aren't bookworms that I spend my lunch hour curled up in a corner of the canteen, nose in the pages of Michio Kaku or Eric Ives, but...this is my time. I prefer books to people. Okay, I prefer most books to most people. And it might seem rude to them, but in turn, it seems rude to me that people consistently try to interrupt me when I'm otherwise occupied. It's as if they think reading is a default activity; something you only do when you can't find anything better.
I've even had people in other walks of life take pity on me when I'm sitting on my own, say, "Aww, come and sit with us. You can't sit on your own!" Uh...why not? Maybe I want to. Maybe I'm not on my own - I have a book.
And I don't get why it happens. As I mentioned in an email to a male friend last night, I've been accused by a girlfriend of having stand-offish body language with the opposite sex, so they're too scared to approach me in a bar or club (which doesn't bother me anyway; Dundee is stuffed full of chavs and I wouldn't touch a Scottish bloke with a ten-foot pole).
So why does this happen at work? In everyday, normal, just-going-about-my-business life? Why do men in pubs turn tail and hide, leaving the faint smell of fear and urine in my nostrils, but they find it all of a sudden possible to piss me off to the point of pre-menstrual ire, when I'm sat in the staff canteen, clearly not up for a conversation? Not just men, but women too?
WHY???
Why, when I most want it to kick in, does my noli me tangere aura desert me?
At my shitty little job I work a seven-hour day which is technically six hours long, as I have a break for one hour which I take slap bang in the middle to break my day up into even halves.
And I eat my sammiches and read my book.
Or at least, I try to.
Because someone always, always, always, inevitably comes out with something like, "What are you reading now?" or, "You're always reading!" or, "You're anti-social; you've always got your nose in a book!"
To which I want to reply, "No I'm not, because you're interrupting me," or "Well, I'm always trying to," or "I prefer reading, to talking to dimwitted oafs like you."
And there are some right annoying swines who approach me and actually move the book while I'm reading it, to see the cover!!!
Now, there are some very very good people at this place of work. Don't get me wrong. There are some shitheads there; I've moaned about them in one of my many "I hate my job!" threads. But there are a select few people with whom I've swapped numbers, and want to keep in touch with after my contract ends in three glorious weeks, because I like them. I won't name them for reasons of privacy, but there's the make-up counter girl who coloured in my face for me the other week. The noisy girl from childrenswear who never shuts up. The bloke on menswear who keeps making sexual innuendos about my arse (don't worry davids; I told him keep off!!!). The guy from the loading bay who spent some time trying to put a smile on my face today when I burst into tears. God bless 'em all.
But. Here's the thing.
No matter how much I like you; no matter who you are, when I am reading, I want the whole world to f*** off.
Honestly. If I was deep into Gone With the Wind and Joaquin Phoenix burst into the room wearing nothing but a smile, carrying a job lot of prophylactics, I'd be hard pushed to tear myself away from Scarlett and Rhett.
Well, okay, I'd compromise. I'd ask if he minded if I read over his shoulder...
But my point is this.
I know it seems rude to other people who aren't bookworms that I spend my lunch hour curled up in a corner of the canteen, nose in the pages of Michio Kaku or Eric Ives, but...this is my time. I prefer books to people. Okay, I prefer most books to most people. And it might seem rude to them, but in turn, it seems rude to me that people consistently try to interrupt me when I'm otherwise occupied. It's as if they think reading is a default activity; something you only do when you can't find anything better.
I've even had people in other walks of life take pity on me when I'm sitting on my own, say, "Aww, come and sit with us. You can't sit on your own!" Uh...why not? Maybe I want to. Maybe I'm not on my own - I have a book.
And I don't get why it happens. As I mentioned in an email to a male friend last night, I've been accused by a girlfriend of having stand-offish body language with the opposite sex, so they're too scared to approach me in a bar or club (which doesn't bother me anyway; Dundee is stuffed full of chavs and I wouldn't touch a Scottish bloke with a ten-foot pole).
So why does this happen at work? In everyday, normal, just-going-about-my-business life? Why do men in pubs turn tail and hide, leaving the faint smell of fear and urine in my nostrils, but they find it all of a sudden possible to piss me off to the point of pre-menstrual ire, when I'm sat in the staff canteen, clearly not up for a conversation? Not just men, but women too?
WHY???
Why, when I most want it to kick in, does my noli me tangere aura desert me?
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