An Open Letter

Dear girl in my office ( you know who you are ) ;

I want to punch you in the throat.  I don't know if you have been recently dumped or what on Earth could have happened  that possessed you play Evanescence " All of Me" on a loop from 9:00 am - 5:00 pm for the last two days at a volume loud enough to carry to my desk 4 cubes away.  I am about to blow my brains out. I know I am not the only one who has noticed.  I am also not the only one who has noticed that you do nothing all day but surf the Internet and eat cake at your desk.  I am pissed off about this for two reasons.  First , I know you make more money than I do.  Second , you replaced a totally hot Australian guy who, had he possessed the same lack of tact as you, would have probably played something other than "pop-goth-cry-me-a-river-bullshit" music and was at least easy on the eyes.  I know - who am I to judge your musical taste? This is not about that.  It is about the fact that you have now become a part of the problem.  You have become a limb on the dark monster that eats away at my very being 45 hours a week , 50 weeks a year ( thank God for two weeks vacation). My pen is running out of ink in the endless list of reasons why I hate my job.  Congratulations !  You just made the list ! Number 47.  Don't be too proud of yourself though.  The woman two cubes away who whistles incessantly made it on the list long before your time , honey.  Put on your headphones like the rest of the people who have enough time in the day to rock out at the office.  Turn down your radio for those of us who have reached noise pollution capacity from endless phones ringing and bosses demanding peanut butter bagels at the drop of a hat.  When you go to your colleagues desk to ask your millionth question of the day - don't sit on it and pretend it's yours and then giggle about how you just don't understand some spreadsheet.  Music off !  Brain on ! For the love of God - at least pick a new song, there are usually 10 on an album.

Sincerely, 

Wits End