“Mimi was just talking about that song, and I literally hummed the chorus for about five seconds.”
“Yes, well, it was five seconds too long,” I said, scowling at him. “Would you like it if I casually started singing while you were trying to write an important journalistic piece?”
He glanced at my screen. “You’re Googlingbald eagles.”
“And?”
“It doesn’t look like you’re in the middle of writing an important journalistic piece.”
“I’m still trying to concentrate.”
He frowned in confusion. “While looking at pictures of bald eagles?”
“Yes!”
He raised his eyebrows. By now, a few colleagues had swiveled slightly to listen. I’ve noticed it becoming a theme—whenever Ryan and I start bickering over something, the rest of the office becomes eerily silent.
“Are you looking at pictures of bald eagles for a piece you’re writing?” he asked breezily. “Are you interviewing… a celebrity bald eagle?”
Mimi sniggered. I glared at her. She quickly pretended to focus on her screen.
“It’s none of your business why I’m Googling bald eagles,” I pointed out.
“Then it’s none of your business that I’m humming.”
“It is my business when it affects me, which your humming does.”
“You Googling bald eagles on office time when it’s not work related could be affectingme. If you’re wasting time and falling behind, then I’ll be the one to pick up the slack.”
Ugh.
I’d been listening to a comedy podcast on the way into work that morning and one of the hosts had mentioned bald eagles, which made me wonder if they wereactuallybald? I couldn’t Google it because I was on the tube with no signal, and I’d just now remembered to look it up.
But I could hardly explain that to him, could I?
“You know that’s a ridiculous argument,” I hissed at him.
“Harper, I think this isn’t about bald eagles or my humming. I think you’re annoyed that everyone agreed with my opinion on the blue cover over the orange cover.”
“Please!” I guffawed. “This isnotabout that.”
“So you don’t care that I was right?”
“You weren’tright.It was a subjective opinion.” I shifted in my seat. “It just so happens that in the end, the art desk and the editor decided to go with the one youpersonallypreferred.”
He nodded. “So, I was right.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he insisted.
“No, you…” I exhaled, trying to stay calm. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”
“That I was right?”
“That we haddiffering opinions,” I clarified. “And I was telling you to stop humming because it’s distracting, not because I was annoyed the blue cover was decided on.”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
