Crying Her Way Through The New Year

Me: *Avoiding eye contact with the office . . . leprechaun(?), I busily study the paper in front of me.*
Lep: *Standing at my door waving frantically and doing a little shimmy*
Me: *Trying my best to send out a signal that says - Damn this paper is really interesting, I'm so absorbed, please do not disturb me.*
Lep: Soooooo. Whatcha reading?
Me: *Dang. I was reading my time sheet.* Nothing.
Lep: *sighs and closes her eyes for a good two minutes* The meds are working and as long as the meds are working everything is going to be good.
Me: Should you be telling me that?
Lep: Haha, I have a prescription silly. You sound sort of gruff.
Me: I have a cold.
Lep: Yeah, we just partied too much.
Me: No we didn't.
Lep: Yeah, me either. I was in bed at eleven.
Me: Hmm.
Lep: Next year I'll have fun. Next year. *starts to cry and walks away*
Me: I . . . uh. . .

Talk about awkward. This would have to be the number one reason I'm afraid to get a new job - because I'm pretty sure at most businesses you do not see a quarter of the staff crying on any given day. Not that I enjoy the crying, at first I was very concerned for the morale of the employees and considered spiking the water cooler with anti-depressants, but now it's normal daily business. And I'm sort of afraid it has transferred over to me and that if I were to get a new job I might cry the first time the copier breaks down. But maybe I wouldn't. Maybe I would just scream and kick it like Miss Havisham does yelling, "I hate you. Why don't you just find yourself some eighteen year old copier whore and run off with her! Bastard!"
Who can really say?