My Stalker: Part 3: Lunchtime Collateral Damage

On the heels of the crazy shit with Sal, I am now trying to find some place just TO BE by myself during my lunch hour. (And given that some of my readers are also introverts of sorts, I'm sure you could appreciate this chapter of the story.) Fuck me sideways, I am running out of potential places to hide.

My options: 

1.  In my own suite of offices on the fifth floor, there are two conference rooms and a back room filing room, with a shared kitchen/pantry area we share with our regional office. All of these are off limits because ... “PEOPLE.“
   
2. There’s a huge-ass cafeteria/cantina downstairs where everyone in the entire building has access, and it’s really just horrible with noise pollution, as well as “PEOPLE.” I just want to sit quietly, and 100% of the time when I do, I do so in a corner chair, facing out the windows, my back to everyone, and anyone with a modicum of awareness would read that as LEAVE ME ALONE, and yet, people still approach me to talk about what I am making. Nice enough as that is, I just want to be left alone. To me, my crochet is like meditation. I don’t want nor need to be engaged in mindless chitchat. Just like in the workplace shithouse... no chitchat. Just leave me the fuck alone.
   
   Since I gave Sal “THE NOTE OF DOOM,” obviously I’ve burned that bridge, nor would I want to sit in his office bullshitting, even if he made an attempt at apology (which he hasn’t, and I doubt he will—PS: I actually ran into him Monday night, while I was doing my back door exit routine, thinking he was already at his post at the front desk—no such luck, and no such apology either), I’ve been IN SEARCH OF alternate places just to eat my lunch and BE ALONE, without having to leave the premises.
    
3. So I go down to our LL2, which is a secure floor, and go into the small kitchenette/pantry area down there, only to realize that the cleaning lady has taken it upon herself to take her breaks in there (seriously, this is a high rise building, surely they have areas for the maintenance people to take their breaks—not in the areas where TENANTS ARE). I was down there on Friday and yesterday, each day she’s in there, wasting time and drinking her weight in Keurigs (without putting any money in the till—it’s on an honor system, btw). Sidenote: She’s slacking off, and it’s chapping my ass—every workplace has them. I have my hands full with my own fucking slacker.
   
   Today I get down there five minutes later than my norm, and she’s got my spot, the table which is just about in a blindspot, behind a load bearing post. I don’t feel like sitting down there, listening to her chatter on her cell or smelling her weird food smells, so I’m AGAIN, off to find some place just to BE.
    
4. I scurry off to the conference room also down on that level. Door locked.
    
5. No place else except what amounts to a small anteroom barely bigger than a closet where the investigators have their lockers, and a few file cabinets. Yep. That’s where I went. No chair, so I swiped JabippyLoo’s, given she’s working 4 to midnight tonight. I sat in an over glorified closet/file room and ate my lunch in solitude in there. 

This shit is getting old. I just want my lunch hour to be mine, no distractions, by myself or with people of my choosing. 

I have been amazed that whatever feel good or even neutralish good feels I’ve had since my vacation last month have lasted this long, but now I’m back to my full on I HATE PEOPLE mode and really just want to be left alone. 

Wednesdays are typically my day to leave the building, go to farmer’s market or whatever. But I have a feeling I’ll be disappearing every day now. Perhaps get a walk in and go to Whole Foods to just sit and bask in my anonymity.