Kitchen Politics

I’ve debated whether or not to write a blog on this topic for a little while now. I’m always very aware that writing anything work related, no matter how tenuous, can be a risky business. However, I shall throw caution to the wind – and just change everyone’s names.

Let’s begin.

If you work in an office, like me, I’m sure you’re also acutely aware of what a hazardous place the kitchen can be. Not because of the boiling water and knives and occasional broken glass. But because of the distinct possibility that you’ll get stuck in there and have to make awkward small-talk with someone you hate.

This happens fairly regularly to me. Although I think it might be because I tend to hate more people than average…

Anyway, the key problem with the whole process is that, usually a trip to the kitchen isn’t a particularly quick affair. You’re either making tea or using the microwave or maybe making some toast. All these things take at least 3 minutes. That means that you could potentially have to spend 3 uncomfortable minutes with someone you don’t want to - literally trapped in a small confined space.

Of course, the problem isn’t just limited to kitchens. Lifts are also perilously risky, although tend to take less time.

But, my absolute nightmare is getting on a bus and accidentally sitting near or, worse case scenario, opposite a colleague I dislike. This happened to me about two months ago. I was getting the bus from Putney and sat at the back on the bottom deck where the seats face each other. I was just quietly enjoying the Bizarre pages of the Metro when this cow from work came and sat opposite me. She worked in the department that I had since moved from but we had nothing to say to each other even when I did work there.

I’ll give you a brief description of her. Must be pushing 40, was probably quite attractive – once. Unfortunately still thinks she is. Wears really inappropriate clothes and talks like a horse. That’s probably as much detail as I dare go into. She sat opposite me and we definitely made eye contact, although obviously we would both deny that if we had to. I buried my head in the paper and she looked at her phone. I imagine checking her account on Cougar.com. The journey took an extra 20 minutes that day because of road works but I daren’t lift my head from the paper. I must have read an article about Cheryl Cole at least 10 times. I am now an expert.

I actually considered putting the paper down and saying:

“Look, you don’t particularly like me, I don’t like you. Let’s acknowledge each other but not speak again.”

But as much as that would have been immensely satisfying, the consequences weren’t really worth it. So we sat there for the entire time pretending not to notice each other. I listened to my voicemail over and over again. She did the same, until we got off and I walked at a snails pace to avoid catching up with her. I was so relieved to get to work. I swear awkward situations seek me out. Maybe I should be more tolerant.

Nah...

Phew. I’m knackered after writing that. I could really do with a coffee.

But is it worth the risk?