The parking lot conundrum

At work every morning I pull in to the lower parking lot (where us lesser than employees are required to park) at 9:00 a.m. sharp. The walk through the parking lot, up two flights of stairs, through the warehouse, and to the time clock takes no less than 4 very breathless minutes. After making it to the time clock safely, a 2-minute walk to my desk still awaits – all for a grand total of a long 6-minute walk into work.
I say all this to preface my next story.
While 6 minutes doesn’t seem painfully long it actually is, particularly when you are spending all 6 endless minutes walking with a coworker you barely know, or even worse, one you barely like. There is always an odd tension. What is there to talk about besides work or the weather? It is always very forced conversation during a time when most people are just waking up, collecting their thoughts and wishing for one last moment of silence before plunging into the workday.
Every day, as soon as I pull into the parking I scan for other cars pulling in at the same time. What I have begun to notice is that there is always a tug of disappointment when someone arrives at the same time as I do. I dread the walk in (not always, but dependent on the person). I get the notion that the feeling of dread is mutual. The person in the other car also hates the idea of walking in with someone else.
What ensues is a game of cat and mouse. One person lingers in their car, finishing up an early phone call, collecting their belongings, or adjusting their coat and mittens. The other person jumps out of their car and makes a mad dash to the door. It becomes a race to put as much distance as possible between the two people. Remember, the goal is to avoid walking in to work together.
It happened this morning. I pulled in right after another employee, one that has an obvious and unwarranted distaste for me. She parked, then I parked. We made eye contact. I figured she’d hustle out of her car and scurry up the steps. She didn’t. I feared I might actually have to walk in with her. There was no way I was going to make it out of my car before she did. But she kept sitting there feigning busy! I was saved. I breezed out my Honda and up the steps, making it – albeit very out of breath – to the time clock in a record 1.5 minutes. My morning walk salvaged.
And that’s the story of how it begins, each and every day.