I need to stop working for the government or I will die alone, bitter, and friendless

Warning: this post contains a lot of griping about work. I'm sorry. I never wanted to become the person who blogs about hating their job. Consider it a "how to communicate inside the government" guide.

So, I get bored easily. I've started and stopped a PhD, taught, coached debate, worked at the Archives, and had two jobs at the LOC since 2004. I can't play poker or pool because they don't evolve quickly enough for my taste. I like people who are interested in, and talk about, many different subjects. I am about to stop speaking to absolutely everyone that works with me, because a blinding rage rises within me every time anyone opens their mouth in my vicinity.

Quick background: absolutely everyone here loves me, loves talking to me, loves emailing me. They think I'm focused, dedicated, shy, self-effacing, sweet, patient, and funny. They are all hatching plans so that keep me in this wretched place forever. I get told this about 3 times a week. It makes me feel warm, fuzzy, and like a caged animal who needs to fight for her life.

Everyone I work with is also extremely intelligent. People have lived on 4 continents, everyone has an advanced degree, and they've all done fascinating things with their lives. We work in politics, which you think would incite nuanced, analytical conversation - or at least bitter, sardonic commentary.

No such luck. Instead, our communication is limited to a daily and weekly themes. Niceties such as:

"hello!"
"how are you?"
"you look tired - everything alright?"
"Don't throw yourself out the window, you won't be here forever."

are meant to build rapport and establish a friendly work place atmosphere. Great. Love it. However, beyond that, all I want is for everyone to either ignore me or push the conversation forward.

Themes of the week are commentary on something or someone in the office. For example, I stumbled into work one Monday, exchanged my morning niceties, poured myself the last dregs of coffee, and forgot to screw the top back onto my travel mug. I went to take my first sip and the entire cup of coffee spilled all over me, creating a design on my pale-pink shirt that rather looked like a Rorschach inkblot. Other than the second-degree burns, it was actually pretty funny. Definitely worth mocking for a day, maybe two. Instead:

Tuesday: "Did you remember a change of clothes today? We were thinking about banning you from coffee for your own safety."
Wednesday: "At least you're wearing brown today - it'll blend right in!"
Thursday: "Wow - two days of not wearing coffee. You turned over a new leaf!"
Friday: "She's wearing white! Better hide the coffee!"

And so on, every morning, I swear to you, for two solid weeks. I have no problem with them making fun of me. I have a problem with the uncreative, mind-numbingly boring monotony, and how convinced everyone seems that conversations like these create tight-knit, long lasting friendships.

In addition to our meta theme of the week, we talk about the weather and the days of the week every single day. When I taught pre-school, we got to sing songs. Here, we just pass the same phrases off as conversation.

Days of the week are my favorite:

Monday: "It's Monday." Tuesday: "Still feels like a Monday." Wednesday: "We made it to hump day!!!" Thursday's special, because we have two options: "[It's almost/Wish it were already] Friday!" Friday: "At least it's Friday."

Be warned: you have to have this conversation with 4-5 people over the course of the day. Every day. Or you get kicked out of the government. It's one of their rules.

Here's how we talk about the weather, daily, as an entire office:

It [still hasn't/won't stop/hopefully will/better not] [rain/snow].
It sure is [hot/cold] outside! (even when it's not).
I wish I were [y place], which is [warmer/colder] than here.

And then everyone sighs. At the same time.

The weather conversation inevitably leads to "Wow, Kellie, you sure spend a lot of time outside." Which is true. I am outside, regardless of weather, for absolutely all of the time I'm not stuck at my desk. It's partially because I'm a chain smoker, and partially because I hate it in here. In my work world, they think I'm an avid walker/coffee drinker. We'll go with that.

But now I have a new problem entering and leaving the building. It concerns two very nice police officers who guard my favorite entrance to the building. We'll call them Officer Larry and Officer Bob. To the best of my understanding, Officer Bob and Officer Larry both used to have crushes on me. Bob claimed me. Larry backed off. Larry is cute. Bob is not.

So I made up a boyfriend. They teased me about my Russian boyfriend everyday. Larry would whisper sweet nothings to me in Russian. It was hilarious.

Then, tragedy stuck. Larry got transferred to another guard station, so it was just me and Bob, six times daily, as I was fleeing and re-entering the building. Left without Larry's sense of humor, Bob has reverted to the "we must exchange the same words everyday" game. Every time he sees me, he asks, teasingly, "Where's Larry?" "Where are you hiding Larry?"

He finds this hilarious, but clearly I'm not hiding Larry. Haven't seen him is weeks. And, really, there are only about three ways I can say "I don't know, where is he?" or "Maybe he's hiding from you." Or "Maybe he quit and went to Vegas" and still sound like I'm joking. Honestly, I can no longer take the "Where's Larry? I know you know where he is!" joke thirty times a week. It actually causes me anxiety every time I go outside, simply because I have nothing new to say, and neither does he, and I feel like we're a scratched CD and I can't hit eject.

I hate it here. I hate that I just wrote for 45 minutes straight because I have no work to do. I'm becoming more and more socially inept with each passing day. I need to leave the government before I become a reclusive, mute cat-lady in the woods somewhere.

But, ya know, at least it's Friday.