I swore after my last write up on the Chirpers – those humans whose pod of cubicals sits directly outside my office door, where they allegedly sell my company’s product – that I was done. Relaying these stories makes me feel catty, judgy. Old. But the Chirper stories are like the mob – as soon as I think I’m out, they drag me back in. Plus, in a few weeks, the whole lot of them will be moved to another spot in our building, so this may actually be my last opportunity to report on the chirping. Unless I want to start lurking around with a note pad.
It turns out, though, that the Chirpers will not go quietly. It was a big week, and not just because it is the height of selling season – which it is. And you’d think that would mean more telephone sales time for the Chirpers, but apparently not. No, these ladies had other things on their minds. Let’s listen in, and let me say in advance, I swear to God this is what happened. And please keep in mind, their little cubical pod sits in the dead center of an entire sea of cubicals filled with people actually doing work. I have a door. I could close it and avoid this entire catastrophe. (I mean, I didn’t. I’m not made of stone, people!) The point is that loads of perfectly normal people were unable to avoid the following.
Chirper #1: Gotta call Vatch.
Chirper #2: Sounds like vag.
Chirper #1: Yeah. (giggle)
Chirper #2: Vag. Heh heh heh.
Chirper #1: Dirty vag! Heh heh heh.
Chirper #2: Yeah, my husband will never let me forget my bachelorette night.
NOTE: Here’s where I began to really worry. Any tale that was brought to mind by this whole “vag” thing is, I’m assuming, not meant for public sharing. Surely Chirper #2 will either stop talking now, or will quietly walk into the cubical of Chirper #1 to commend her choice of stretchy leggings for pants today, and quietly tell her personal bachelorette dirty vag tale, so as not to broadcast whatever it may be to the dozens of people within ear shot. Right?
Chirper #1: It’s such a funny word.
Chirper #2: The only reason I’m not totally embarrassed by it is because I can’t remember anything.
Chirper #1: Got to go clean the vag.
Chirper #2: I was so bad. I was totally throwing up and going to the bathroom all over myself. My husband had to clean me up. He never lets me forget.
Chirper #1: Big Bang is the worst. Like, literally.
Chirper #2: They said it was acute alcohol poisoning, and I said it was not acute, it was really bad. And he was like acute just means it was not prolonged, that it happened one time. And I said they were making it sound like it wasn’t really bad, but it was. It was aw-ful!
Chirper #1: You can’t move, you can’t breathe, you can’t get a drink.
Chirper #2: It’s hard, because you have to try really hard to have this really crazy night, but if you’re in Columbus, you’ve already done everything.
Recap of my favorite moments:
1) That the phrase “dirty vag” immediately made #2 think of her bachelorette party.
2) That C#1 was so unphased by this conversation about needing to be cleaned up that she just jumped to our lack of good local spots for bachelorette parties.
3) And that she still keeps misusing the word “literally”.
4) Oh, right, and that this vag-tastic conversation took place in the most central and public spot in my crowed office.
You stay classy, Chirpers!