There are two types of people in the world: huggers and non-huggers. As a non-hugger, I know the other camp exists, and I’ll put up with it, but you’ll never catch me invading someone else’s personal space without a close relationship and a physical separation lasting at least six months. I’m guessing that the huggers of the world don’t understand what they’ve done to offend all of the non-huggers.
I realize that all of the huggers pity the poor non-huggers, and I know I must occasionally look like the piemaker on Pushing Daisies, but it’s just the way I am.
Anyhow, here’s an episode from work as seen from the eyes of the non-huggers and the huggers. There were four of us (me, Scrawny Mike, Jeff, and Lourdes) in the breakroom. It was the day before Thanksgiving and people were starting to leave since it was after noon.
What actually happened:
I was leaning against the counter, in front of the toaster oven. Jeff and I were talking about something when I saw him look at the first aid kit mounted on the wall. He reached past my shoulder for the latch and I moved out of the way so he could search through the bizarre and useless collection of band-aids contained within for something he could wrap around his scabby cuticles.
What Lourdes and Scrawny Mike saw:
Lourdes and Mike were a few feet away when Jeff awkwardly leaned forward as if he were going to give me a hug. Lourdes even started to say “Aw….”. Then I moved out of the way and Jeff opened the medical supplies.
What, I’m supposed to give my brother a hug at work since I’m not going to see him for four whole days? Right.
I still think Lourdes was disappointed.