Shut Yer Yap

There's a woman who works in my building who is exactly - to the day - one month older than I am. We are in our late 30's. Honest to god, this woman has more aches and pains, trouble, and assorted randomness in-general than anyone else I know.

I get to work typically 1 to 1-1/2 hours before her, partially for the better commute, but partially because I know that I can crank out a ton of work before she arrives. That way, when she gets here, I have the time to listen to the verbal diarrhea that will become Issue of the Day.

Her physical pain I COULD understand and sympathize with...if it wasn't for the constance of complaint. After a while...suck it up and deal...or stay home and whine there. The other stuff is, to me, truly odd. I'll call it: empathy by proxy.

Hypothetically, let's just say that one morning there's a plane crash in Bangladesh. News of the crash is all over the radio/TV/internet. This woman will more than likely come in the office telling me how sad she is about it and how sick she feels about it, her stomach is upset, and she can't even function, feeling sorry for those poor people and their families.

I'm sorry, do WHAT, now?? Is she from Bangladesh? Does she have family in Bangladesh? Does she have friends or co-workers traveling in the area? A giant, resounding NO to all of the above. ...and she's serious. She'll chat with her folks or her sister or some friend about it on the phone for a while (oh, and me, in person, for longer than I care to). For real. I pray, on a regular basis, for her to have sick days or vacation time.

Please, please make it stop.