Tuesday. Yeah, definitely Tuesday. That’s got to be the worst day of the week. Sure Monday sucks, but the weekend is right behind you. You’re still refreshed from your two days off. Tuesday is definitely worse. The weekend is a distant memory and you still have the majority of your workweek ahead. Oh crap! How long have been lost in this pointless thought? C’mon now, focus. What is she saying? I’ll just tune back into the conversation and see if I can figure out what she’s talking about.

“It’s like the other day, I was talkin’ to Shelly. She told me that …”

Okay, doesn’t sound like I’ve missed much here. How long has she been chattering away? Let’s see. Just nod my head and bite my lower lip just a bit. Now, I’ll glance thoughtfully down and to the right as though deeply considering the weight of her words. Study the heavy, dark faux wood grain of the desk. How old is this desk anyway? I mean when was the last time that look was en vogue? The nineteen seventies? The stainless-steel drawer pulls, the rectangular, modern look at the time …Oh, no, danger. Can’t stare too long at the desk. Now, eyes drift back up to Pris, hesitating only for a moment in the monitor’s bottom right corner. 10:47. That means she’s been at this for nine minutes. Not bad … especially for Pris. I’ll write it off as the morning’s coffee break. If she isn’t done within the next six minutes, I’ll interrupt as politely as possible and explain that I have a ton of work to do.Sounds like a plan to me. Hopefully it’ll work. I mean, she’s been lurking in my doorway for ten minutes prattling on and on and on. Most of which has been spent with my half-open eyes glazed over and the out of focus. Hell, I’m not even staring at her … more like through her. If my head weren’t resting heavily in my left palm and my elbow anchored to the desk, I’m certain that my jaw would be sagging, leaving my mouth slightly agape.I suppose my inattention doesn’t matter. If I had only realized that a simple “Good morning. How are you?” would spawn this monologue, I would have opted for the chin-up half nod with a half-hearted “morning.” Simple acknowledgment, that’s all I was going for. Now I’m being held office hostage.All in all, better to endure and to keep ol’ Pris on my side. She keeps me up to date on all the office dirt, whether I like it or not. Not to mention, if she’s busy talking to me, she has less time to talk about me. Coworkers have told me how she vehemently defends me from others’ complaints. She immediately took me under her wing when I started working here. Like any good mama bird, she has kept her little one fed with a hearty diet of office gossip. In my past jobs, I always managed to do my work, keep my head down, and remain distanced from all office politics. Not here, not now, thanks to Pris. Unfortunately, this bond means being hijacked sporadically.

“So, I said real loud, ‘If everyone would worry less about others and more about their own job, we’d all better off.’ I said it loud enough, I know she heard me. That busy body. I think I’m right don’t you? Don’t you agree? What do you think?”

Oh, god the questioning! I tuned in at the right moment for once.

“Well … yeah. I think we should all focus on ourselves and our own workload and worry less about what the other guy is doing,” I said.

Non-committal but vaguely affirmative, seemed the best way to answer Priscilla. If you disagree with her, she seems to think you simply did not understand the situation. To remedy this misunderstanding, she recounts the entire event, sentence by sentence, detail by detail, no abbreviation. Then she barrages you with a string of “Don’cha think? Don’cha think?” She doesn’t relent until I concede her point of view. It is much easier to comply than to sit through any story twice. She seems content with validation of her viewpoint. Is she launching into the another story? Time check. I’ll push my hair back over my left ear, tilt my head, dart my eyes to the clock in the corner of my PC again. 11:05.All right, Priscilla. Your time is up. We’ve run over the allotted time for this segment of the program. We really must break.What to do? With her blocking the doorway, there’s no hope for an exit. Perhaps, I if I start with some subtle social cues, I can let her know that I need to get back to work. Let’s see, I’ll shuffle these papers. Flip through as though I’m perusing them, organizing them, straightening them.Nothing. I’ll jot a note here on a Post-It® pad.

“Excuse me for being rude. I have to write the thing down or else I forget.”

Truth be told, I was actually making my grocery list for after work. Mixed greens for a salad, bottle of Pinot Noir (I’ll need it after this day), coffee ….. Oh, no! I feel a yawn coming. Must stifle it. I lock my jaw; my mouth opens only a little and draws in a quick drag of air. The muscles in my face cramp and my jaw pops. Not satisfied with this thwarted attempt, my body decides to try again. Unable to resist the urge to yawn, I slide my left hand from my cheek to cover mouth and to prevent giving Priscilla a full view of my molars. Hopefully, the hum of the computer is enough to disguise the less-than-subtle inhalation. Okay, biology satisfied. Let’s see, I’ll move my hand down to my chin to rub it contemplatively. Arch the eyebrows and widen the eyes to enhance the effect. Hopefully, this conveys “I see. Hmmm, very intriguing. I’m giving this some serious thought,” rather than, “You are boring me to tears. Go the fuck away!”“

… and he never did any work. He took those classes that the company paid for, got his Master’s degree, and moved on. Good riddance, I say. That’s why his desk was always so clean.”

“His desk was clean because he got an advanced degree?” I stupidly asked.

Questions only lead to more explanations from Priscilla. I surely added another seven minutes to her visit. Rookie mistake.

“No, his desk was clean because he didn’t do any work,” she explained as she slides into the chair across from my desk.

In one deft move, she shifted her coffee mug from her right hand to the left, grabbed the chair with the empty hand, slid it back as she quietly dropped into the seat. Impressive. Make that thirteen more minutes that I will be graced with her presence.

“He got that promotion while pawning all the work onto Stanley,” she continued.

Serious drowsiness is overtaking me. I’m afraid that my eyes are going to shut involuntarily . I know, I’ll dart my eyes a bit to conceal how heavy my eyelids have become. Not too much though, I don’t want to look shifty. Perhaps a swig of coffee will help. As I return the mug to the desktop, I sneak a peak at my wristwatch. 11:11.I’ve got to devise a strategy to weasel out of this situation. In the meantime, I’ll stare blankly at her, nodding my head slowly and reassuringly like one of the bobble-head Chihuahua toys that ubiquitously appeared after those stupid Taco Bell commercials. Combine the nod with the occasional half-hearted “Uh, huh” or “Yeah.”Let’s see, I’ll just tilt my head back and close my eyes as though I’m drinking in her stories while I devise my escape.

“Poor, Caleb. He’s so tired. Are you getting enough rest, son?”

Oh my god! I must’ve fallen asleep!

“Oh, Priscilla. I am so, so sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well. I must’ve nodded off for a bit.”

“Oh, that’s all right. I should get back to it. My break is just about over anyway. Maybe you should get up and walk around, splash some water on your face, help you wake up. That’s what I have to do. I don’t see how you can just sit in that office all day with the hum of the florescent lights, …”

Okay, she’s ambling back to her cubicle. The door is clear, at last! Wait for it.5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1.Break for the door. Freedom!