The fictitious goody goodies are still hard at working mocking the little joys of others for no reason whatsoever other than to denote being trapped in temporary disruption.
I’m talking you to, non-smokers, the ones who hurriedly walk past frigid smokers in sub-zero weather and shoot them an intolerable side eye; the ones who put their hand over their mouth as they walk by, fearing they will be sucked in to an incubus of toxic affliction; the ones who fabricate an Oscar-worthy, hacking cough as if they are about to drop dead at moment’s notice. Such acts accomplish nothing, but they are very telling. People thrive on being the unsung hero, if only for a moment. To be looked upon as a superhero for the sheepish society. Because you have momentarily deterred cancer cells in progress with the momentary “threat” of your side-eye.
Many years ago, I used to smoke in an office. That’s right, you read correctly, I used to smoke indoors. It was a desk job where the job responsibilities were in accordance of what was actually produced. It was a tiny, two-person office, where a third desk was the exclusive home of the digital hub: a computer and a dot matrix printer. It was in this office that all the accounting numbers were confirmed (not calculated) and there would be piles of green and white paper with perfect aligned, micro-dotted letters and numbers. The goal was to ideally match what was scribed in handwritten form.
The primary work was compiled using handwritten scraps of paper, worksheets that resembled math homework of yesteryear, and a 10-key calculator adorned with greasy fingerprints and long strips of paper tape that would make grocery merchants proud. All work was calculated by hand, then entered into a spiffy MS-DOS program that was designed specifically for our office. It was the kind of job when work was considered actual work, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be sitting there all those hours without a cigarette.
Years later, the workforce became the cornucopia of the Microsoft Office Suite, thus resulting in cutting my task in half the time. Funnily enough, management still finds derisive reasons to shun an employee for constantly being away from the desk. It has nothing to do with productivity, but everything to do with superiority complexes. No desk job today has eight hours of real work in a day. I would be willing to bet my house it doesn’t even have four hours a day (depends on the job itself, of course). My previous job never came close to four hours of actual work, so to suggest that taking numerous smoke breaks is the epitome of descending productivity is nothing but cacophony at its finest. I say this because I can’t help but wonder……as long as the work gets done with accurate results and on deadline, what’s the problem?
It’s you, non-smokers. You are the problem.
Let me provide the following as an analogy:
As we have seen in the movie, “Hidden Figures,” Katherine Johnson took lengthy bathroom breaks because her race didn’t allow for bladder relief in close proximity of her colleagues, who were all white. Eventually, her supervisor complained. Every time he searched for her, she was gone. But her lengthy bathroom breaks didn’t stop her from doing what many of her colleagues failed to do, which was the construction of a winning formula that would bring Astronaut John Glenn safely home.
Unless there is cause for concern i.e. work not being done in accurate and timely fashion, you have no reason to place judgement on smokers. This indicates you take great pleasure in your universe of superiority, and it mostly likely implies that, a) you’re a brown-noser; b) you’re the first to run to the water cooler and immerse yourself in office gossip; c) you bring fish to the office for lunch; d) you’re not a fan of Stranger Things; or e) all of the above.
Do any of those things apply to you, non-smokers? Exactly.