I Was a Victim of Office Gossip

I am in love with gossip. I gobble it up, lick the bowl, and then ask for seconds. For the most part this pertains to celebrity gossip. When Heath passed, I was the one to start the Greek chorus of 'oh no!'s through my office. I started a countdown for when Jaime Lynn's baby is going to pop (and another one with bets on when Brit is to going to get preggers again). And the scandalous photos of Miley? I have written on many a discussion board of my opinion on the situation.

My obsession for celebrity gossip, however, has given way to a new fixation -- office gossip. I know it's wrong and not healthy but I just can't help myself...literally. My desk's location is in a hot bed of scandal and too loud chitchat. I have a nice little corner cubicle that is surrounded by corner offices -- the COO, the CEO, the CFO -- and my desk also happens to be kiddy-corner to our human resources/legal department (aka our CAO). In short, I see it all. I have heard the CAO fight with his wife, have heard people get screamed at for shortcomings, and have even seen people get fired.

I've even heard the higher-ups have discussions about me (some good, some not-so-good). But my most recent foray in being a victim of office gossip was laughable so I had to share.

Last week I woke up and my right eye hurt. Upon closer inspection, I realized my right eyelid was significantly larger than my left. Of course I ran running and screaming into WG1's room asking whether she thought I had a tumor in my right eye. She laughed at me, and then handed me some stye ointment. Yes, I had fallen prey to a stye. To make sure my new little friend was gone before the weekend, I decided to forgo my contacts and make-up. Both are things I never do, so obviously this attracted some extra attention from my co-workers.

First thing that morning I corralled two of my work friends to inspect my eye, which is unfortunate normalcy in our everyday routines. The three of us bond over our illnesses (odd, I know). My friend A is a self-proclaimed hypochondriac and D has been having some weird reactions to cheese lately. Anyway, A and D both told me I should enlist The Boss's help confirming if it was a stye or not because she loves pretending she is our mother (which translates to she is very lax about taking sick days).

The Boss confirms I have a stye and has no sympathy for me. And I believe this will be the end of the talk of my stye. Only it isn't. Because rumor of my stye floated around the office and at least three people came up to me before lunch time to offer remedies and housewives' tales of how to get rid of this unwanted bump and I had not told this people about my malady. My stye was the talk of the office. I was Wednesday's office gossip.

This revelation that even something as trivial as a bump on my eye could be circulated around the office made me want to shun idle chitchat altogether. I swore I would be better about gossiping from now on. I would cover my ears when people were called into the CEO's office. I would try not to look into the windows of HR when people were being interviewed for new positions. I would not put my two cents in when we made bets on who would make out at our next holiday party.

I would stop for the sake of styes everywhere.