“We farm.”
This overheard during an all-morning-long phone conversation with an insurance agent. With a little googling effort on my part, I discover she is what’s called a Poll-Ette. I thought it had something to do with voting at first, but no, she’s with an organization that promotes cow education. I think that means they educate people about cows, not the other way around.
What’s that expression about being raised in a barn? Now don’t get me wrong, I love a good farmer, but I can’t say I want one confined to a cubicle next to me. They’re not meant for cubicle dwelling. They have outside behavior.
The constant chair movement. The radio. The phone calls. The outside voice. The opening and closing of drawers every day and all day long. And the chewing. I know, it’s just too obvious to insert a cow/cud comparison here, so I won’t, but I hear unnatural levels of chewing.
Oprah did an audience participation test recently called “Are you rude?” One of the tell-tale signs you were rude was whether or not you had ever typed on your computer while talking on the phone. This is something I would never do. It’s rude. But guess who does? Ol’ Poll-Ette.
So where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Which brings me back to the farm and the insurance. And that I think I’d rather try to get my work done sitting next to a cow than a Poll-Ette.
