"Did anyone ever tell you you're high maintenance?"
That's what the man who sits across the aisle asked me today. The answer is NO, I have not been told that. The situation at the moment was there were 2 facilities men laying on the floor of my cubicle with flashlights and tools trying to rescue my lunchbag and purse who had somehow gotten themselves trapped inside my desk file drawer. They finally got it open by smashing into the thing with a giant bang and then wrenching it open. Before I called them I had asked Bob to to help to try to get the drawer open and we tried our own series of banging and jimmying and wrenching.
Earlier in the day I had decided that the screen on my laptop was too smeary and asked Bob if he had any cleaner for it, which he did but when we inspected it decided it might not be the right kind and I got the IT guy to give me a special little wipe, like a wet-nap. And I also noticed that my cubicle smelled weird and ended up going to Wal-Mart at lunchtime and buying some citrus scented cleaner, and showing it to Bob. And the day before I had managed to pinch a nerve in my back by sitting down too quickly. When I complained about it to Bob he showed me some stretches that might help and we stood in our cubicles practicing them.
Oh dear. I have become "high maintenance." When did that happen? It must stop.
Note to self: Try not to bother poor old Bob so much.