This One Goes To Eleven

They're jack hammering right outside of our office today. And by right out front I mean two feet from my window. Which is gonna be really awesome for morale.

In an office where people freak out when management buys the wrong type of candy for the candy bowl, or send each other into mass hysteria at the thought of taking their lunch break five minutes later than usual, the fact that the office building is literally shaking from a swarm of husky Mexicans with power tools is, I'm pretty sure, going to be the psychotic undoing of at least half of the staff.

Already this morning my (pretty much blind) 81 year old boss shouted, "Goddamnit it's 8am. SOMEONE'S GONNA GET SHOT!" and then felt her way back to her desk where she sat down and rooted around for, what I can only imagine to be, an antique pistol she keeps hidden amongst the melted mints and bags of pennies.

The very pretty gal down the hall stood in my doorway shaking her head and proclaimed, "You'd think with all that shaking they are doing with the jack hammering, they'd be a lot skinnier." Which is extremely appropriate from a girl who once said, "I don't like all the Orientals. They make me claustrophobic." Why? Because they throw you in confined spaces and don't let you out? Damn those sneaky Orientals!

A fellow co-worker, as well as also being one of the three people under 60 years old in the office, took this cell phone picture to document the construction:


Now picture five more of them pounding horrifically as if my speaker was turned up to eleven. Then pour yourself some coffee, and relax into your swiveling chair, where the only thing drowning out the noise from construction is the screams of confusion from the receptionist who hit the construction truck because it "isn't usually parked there".