For the purpose of today’s column, I am going to assume that you have a few friends. I don’t mean vague digital friends who you poke or tweet. I mean friends in the real world you speak to on the phone and you are always set to meet “next weekend”.
Now among these friends there will always be at least one fellow who is incapable of having a sustained conversation about anything except his work. Involve him in a chat about anything—Olympics, inflation, OS X Mountain Lion—and in five minutes everyone is sitting with their heads in their hands complaining about the office.
I confess that I am one such fiend. I simply cannot have a conversation with anyone, friends or strangers, without eventually asking them about their work and their workplace.
Partly this is me being manipulative. I am just trying to get material for this column and my books. Trust me, nothing in the world of fiction can come close to the bizarre things that happen in real people’s offices. You cannot make these things up.