Dear Co-Worker,

Good morning. What a pleasure to see you on the bus this morning!

That's called sarcasm.

It was not a pleasure to see you on the bus this morning. Well, it wasn't awful actually seeing you, but the you trying to make conversation thing is where the pleasure ended.

Let me explain.

We talk at work. All the time. You and everyone else gather at my desk to talk about your lives and complaints about work. And at work, that is okay. In fact it's more than okay because one of my job duties is to be your friend. Those are my bosses words.

That friendship ends outside our big metal office doors. It also does not exist before I walk through those big metal doors early in the morning.

I am an actress/improvisor/writer/musician it is hard enough for me to run reports and mess with numbers all day. I need my iPod time in the morning to psych myself up. I don't want to talk to you. It's not personal. Promise.

Well, for some of you it is personal. But that's for another letter.

Regards,
Molly