Is there anything more cringe-worthy than trying to dip out the door of your office building with the only other cynical co-worker you can drum up and then somehow encountering one of those annoyingly plucky types that manage to finagle themselves an invitation to your too exclusive lunch? Maybe the only other element of office life equally as vomit-inducing is K-cup coffee. Though you never make any indication to this overly enthusiastic, actually-into-it co-worker that you would want them to join you and your fellow pessimist, somehow in their capacity as happy-go-lucky interloper, they remain oblivious to your desire for momentary freedom from the bullshit of having to be fake in pretending to care about workplace matters.
And so, there they are, an emotional eyesore to you and your cohort’s need to exist with one another in a black cloud of commiserating misery. Eating their salad with gusto, probably prattling on about some detox regimen they studied on Goop, followed by unwanted discussions of the latest project they’re working on. They’ve ruined the one drink you allotted yourself to have in mixed company (wouldn’t want to scandalize the non-drink needing bastard, after all) with their beatific nature. And all the while you wonder where people like this are made, the kind who can be content with drudgery and treat their mediocre life as though it’s something to smile about.