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It seems that the areas in front of, behind and beside my cubicle are recognized as the only places on my floor at my office that are capable of hosting loud, useless and ultimately boring conversations that distract me from my work and make me want to bludgeon myself to death with my own keyboard all the live long day.
If, after I reach the age of 60,I wear socks with shorts, sandals or loafers I want someone to immediately cut my legs off at the knee so that there is never, ever the chance of me doing it again because ...