Do they really not understand that hearing their voice ricochet off of every surface in the building makes a person want to resort to violence of comic proportions?
I have earplugs in, and still... her voice just drills into my precariously balanced, high-strung soul... not unlike the way the bitter, damp cold of a January blizzard in Columbus just soaks into the deepest marrow of one's skeleton....
Like.... um... let me try to describe what this does to me.
Imagine you're back in college, poring over a complex scientific paper (if you're not a scientist, well then... all the better). It's 3 a.m., you're in the science library (the one that's dead silent, the one that's open all night, the one where the Asians have been hiding all quarter, curing cancer and designing particle accelerators and other such what-have-you. This is no big deal, they're here all the time-- it just adds to the mix that they're here working hard all year and you're sitting there like a fat American doofus who doesn't really understand nested qPCR even after having read over the textbook definition for the fortieth time). This is how I feel EVERY DAY.
Okay, got that? Now imagine Elmo busts out of the elevator, right behind you. It's Elmo... and he's got a pair of cymbals. And a cell phone that has something by Fergie as a ringtone.
The pointless noise, it penetrates your soul. Well, there might be a point to the noise, but it's got nothing to do with you. And nobody else in the library has the fortitude to approach Elmo and break it to him, gently-- "hey, you're disrupting my otherwise acceptable life. could you be a lamb and NOT make me want to smother you?"
Good God.
Just turn it down a couple of notches, arright? Don't yell.
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1 comment:
Oh, weird, I think that picture just explained a "Family Guy" reference to me. The episode with the "wh" sounds, I'm pretty sure. I just thought it was random and strange all this time.
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