Was that opportunity knocking?
Why is it that we are all conditioned to answer a ringing phone, open a door if someone is knocking on it, stop for the person who waves us down to ask us a question, sooth the crying infant.
Okay, that last one is based on hundreds of thousands of years of evolution. Doesn't count.
The first three, though, they bother me. A lot.
Working from home, I notice just how busy my neighborhood is, with nearly all the motion from solicitors walking from door to door, knocking on them. And the phone? Yeah, that Do-Not-Call list hasn't really been helping much. My usual, "Can I have your name and your company name and phone number? Because you now owe me $500 in Do-Not-Call violation fines." Oddly enough, the response is nearly universally, click.
Well, except the moron who argued with me about how his call wasn't a violation, even though I had no prior business relationship with his company, just before he started screaming at me.
Customer service. Who says it's dead?
Working at the office, though, theoretically, our office doors should be open and unlocked when we're here. Except that I'm not supposed to be here today.
I didn't fly out with Kris and the rest of the team to Colorado for the tournament this weekend. Feelings of guilt about abandoning my now-12-person team are nearly overwhelming, but I have to remember to take care of myself. Especially when I'm unable to fully participate in the tournament. I hate my frailty sometimes. Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.
So, when someone knocks on the office door, rattles the doorknob, then pounds on the door before walking away, I have to resist the urge to jump up and rush to the door to open it. I left the door locked since I'm not supposed to be here today and all the extra work I get done today is just bonus in my mind. The big monitor at work is really nice (making me think I should probably take it home, actually), so working here is good.
But I don't want to open the door.
I don't want to deal with any solicitor.
Or any delivery guy.
Or any client right now.
For friends, I would take a break, probably a distracted break as I continue to think about the work I've been doing this afternoon, but for anyone else, gah, go away, preferably without being insulted that I'm on a roll.
Especially the clients: I'm working, please don't distract me. In reality, I'm probably working on your work: wouldn't you rather I finish it quickly and efficiently?
Yeah, me, too.
Go away.