I work in a construction zone. As I type, bang bang BANG in CZ, right by head. I’m so lucky I don’t have a hangover today.
The best part about working in a construction zone: the increase in the level of the testosterone. John Rosenberg is one of the few men that work in my office, and it’s soooo nice to have some males to flirt with besides him.
My other smoking buddies feel the same way.
So imagine our surprise, when we find a typed note saying “If one of the smokers was your Juliet, where would you be?” taped on a pillar above our heads in the same blue tape they have used to label each pillar. I’m not sure why the pillars are labeled, but I don’t claim to be an expert on construction.
Am I the Juliet? Is Sue? Pat? Where oh where is our Romeo?!!