"Can you hear me now?"

Here’s to you, Mr. Invisible-9feetx9feet-Square-Tracing-Eternally-Whilst-Holding-Cellular-Telephonic-Court-In-The-Path-En-Route-To-The-Bathrooms-Coffee-Snack-Machines-and-Kitchenette-Area-Guy. Anybody else would sit down or venture out back beyond the smokers’ area, in order to be able to conduct a conversation with a modicum of privacy and quiet. But you, you with your ever-present, full-to-the-brim coffee mug and all-encompassing self-absorbtion, looking for all the world like an emaciated Richard Dreyfuss circa Down and Out in Beverly Hills, apparently know better than the rest of us. And so, morning after everlovin’ morning at the frequently travelled intersection you’ve unofficially commandeered for your perverted constitutionals, you trace that Godforsaken nonexistent square – sometimes it’s more of a rectangle, I guess – consumed by the voice on the other end, oblivious to anybody trying to pass by, on occasion coming to a full stop in your limited travels at for no apparent reason, head angled down in complete concentration. So we salute you, Mr. Invisible-9feetx9feet-Square-Tracing-Eternally-Whilst-Holding-Cellular-Telephone-Court-In-The-Path-En-Route-To-The-Bathrooms-Coffee-Snack-Machines-and-Kitchenette-Area-Guy: wholescale indifference to one’s co-workers is a difficult talent to perfect, but it appears that in this area you’re a veritable ninja master. -20 VOGUES