So, I've been graduated and working at a "grown up" job for nearly a decade now. (I say "grown up" because part of my job is teaching people about social media and writing for them and really, that's just fun and not so grown up - all of the teenagers that I know basically want my job. . . and maybe I paint a prettier picture than reality so that they all think I'm cool. So what? They don't need to know that I Facebook for medical supplies and not Nike - specifics aren't necessary.)
In that decade, I've met a lot of people at work - some of them have become great friends and some of them, well, let's just say that I would totally duck into the feminine hygiene isle at the grocery store to avoid seeing in my private life. Anyway, a lot of people. Yes, that was the point. And these people must be categorized.
I'm going to tell you right now that I have very strict boxes that I put people into once we meet at work: buddy or professional acquaintance. Crossing over is not easily tackled.
If you do, by chance, enter the coveted "Co-Worker. Friend. All-Star" box of greatness, you are basically there for life. This is like the all-access pass that says "Hey, not only would I trust you with my budgets but I'd trust you to throw down at a dance party without hurting yourself as well." It's kind of a big deal - not because it's a special club with free movie tickets or anything but because I have a very low, VERY LOW, annoyance tolerance so to beat that in a social AND work setting is a tough job. I don't issue passes to this club (if I did, they would absolutely have glitter on them) - you just know when you are in. The people that have this title are literally the best, brightest and coolest people I know. We can have a contest. They will beat anyone at coolness. Easily.
I'm proud to say that this box has grown size-ably over the years and there are exactly 30 members at this current juncture. (This is going to send all of my former co-workers into a crazy spin wondering if they are in. Remember, you just know. So if you don't, keep reading. This section isn't for you.) Considering that I've been working professionally for about eight years, this club is more exclusive than Congress. Well done, my friends. Well done.
And then there are the "other guys" - the people that are content residing in one of my previously-mentioned compartments. My thought is that they are either content because they don't care (not usually the case because the non-carers are in the All Star box, more than likely), they don't know that they aren't in the crossover section of peeps, or they are total jerks. (This third category is surprisingly large - not all of them mean jerks, but jerks in some sense).
Anxious to know where you sit? Well, other than the "you just know" hint that I've already thrown out (and who doesn't feel comfortable with that??), here are a couple of hints:
If you send me a request on LinkedIn because we are "buddies" and worked together once and I never respond - it's not because I didn't see it. It's because I think you are excellent at parties and a super great bowler but I have zero desire to connect to you on a work-endorsement basis. Translation: you might want to look at our relationship in a strict "work only" sense and see if I am the right person to ask for an endorsement from because, more than likely, you don't want any of this. I probably know all of your work secrets like the three hour lunches after you spent your morning on eBay and finishing YouTube. Trust me, it's better that I just ignore the request. It's kind of like seeing someone's baby for the first time and all of the comments you can make are about arbitrary things like "man, her hair sure is curly" or "look at those feet" or "oh, he looks so happy". I'm trying to avoid telling you that your baby looks like the spawn of Mars life without being insulting. Same issue applies with work stuff. Don't ask me for the endorsement unless you are really sure that I'm actually going to compliment your work and not write "Has great socks" as your professional thumbs-up. You, my work com padre, are in the buddy box. I don't want to be tied to you professionally. Don't ask me to help you get a job or a raise - I don't wanna. But hey, we can still bowl.
The flip side is also true - just because I give you a ringing professional endorsement on LinkedIn does not mean that I am anxious to see your weekend escapades with your cousins and the World's Largest Ball of Twine on Facebook. I just don't think of you like that; I respect you at work and would totally hire you in a heartbeat and will get you a raise before you know it but we do not know each other otherwise. We aren't buddies if we see each other at Target - I'll likely introduce you to whoever I'm with but will do so as my "co worker" and move on. . . if I haven't already ducked somewhere to avoid the awkward social interaction. Welcome to the professional acquaintance box.
There is one other box that I put people into that I don't like to talk about because it's a very dark and scary place. It is even more difficult to get a spot in this box than my All Star box. . . it's the "I'd sooner drink the water than share it if your clothes were on fire" box. These people have done the near impossible of not only being lazy and incompetent at their jobs but being jerks about it and generally, no fun at all. I only talk to these people because I'm getting paid to and even then, I have to give myself a pep-talk before I go in. Getting into this box has proven a difficult task for most. In fact, until just a few years ago, I didn't even have this fourth box because it was unnecessary.
The good part about this fourth box (and the only reason I disclose it) is that it makes the other two divisions of my game seem a lot less harsh - at least we can bond over spreadsheets on Just Dance - not both, but one or the other. Oh, and I would at least share the water.
Don't judge me for compartmentalizing people. Ah, the irony.
