The new guy who sits next to me is noisy. It all began so innocuously, a little tune here, one there. You think to yourself, what a happy guy. That’s cute. I wish I could whistle. It reminds you of your son who thinks he can whistle, and does so a lot, but it’s more like blowing some air through his teeth. It’s different when a grown man whistles though. And especially at work, at night, on deadline.
Luckily, he moved across the room to collaborate that night. Next to my friend.
We IM. It’s the only way we can talk to each other at work.
She: Who is this dude? Have you heard him?
Me: I sent him your way to brighten your day.
She: You suck.
Me: You can’t trust a whistler. I mean, what’s he whistling about?
She: OMG. I have a pathological hatred of whistlers. They creep me out. I’m sorry he sits next to you. I’d have to move.
Me: Was this a Seinfeld episode? It sounds so familiar. But I agree. My son fake whistles “Ode to Joy” constantly…4th grade recorder practice. I’m ready to bring his recorder and whip it out and play “Hot Cross Buns” every time that guy wets his lips.
She: Now it doesn’t bother me when a CHILD whistles. But a grown man? At work?
Me: And he’s a new hire. Can’t we fire him for it? And Dylan doesn’t know how to whistle, neither do I, but I don’t have the heart to tell him.
Well the whistler is still with us, and I'm more suspect of him than ever. He also sings. I'm not sure what will come out of his mouth next. Scatting? Bubble blowing? Crazy person mumbling?
God help us.