I Am Irrationally Irked by Women Who Live in Walls

The title of this post sounds ridiculous. 
It is.


Wednesdays are generally my favorite days when working at the library because most of my shift is shared with a friend of mine. Yesterday, as usual, we ran out of things to do in the office. So our supervisor sent us to pull books in the stacks.


I love doing this.


There's no sarcasm here. I really do enjoy it. 
There weren't that many we needed to pull, so we decided to go together. One of the first books we came across contained an article that a certain faculty member desired. The name of this article was, "How to Read Like a Man."


This is where our problems began.


Because really, that's hilarious. At least she and I thought so. But it wasn't enough to chuckle at the title, no sir. We decided that we needed to try this for ourselves. 
We spent the next few minutes talking in "man voices." Yeah, we're that awesome. 


You're waiting for problems. Here they come.


We're standing in front of the elevator, when we hear voices. Not from the elevator. Not from the stacks. From behind us. From inside and/or beyond the vent in the wall we were standing against. We clearly heard women's voices, so, clearly, the best decision before me was to say, "Helllloooooo? Is anyone in there?" Into the vent. In a man voice. 


Cue the elevator doors opening. 


Naturally, said elevator was not empty. 


The two men standing inside of it heard everything I did and saw me leaning over to the vent. 


They didn't say anything. Or laugh. Or look weirded out.
They just judged.


My friend and I entered the elevator with the strange, unamused men, and cough-laughed until we reached our desired floor. 


Dear women who live in the walls of Aldy, just stop. You're getting me into situations that require judgment far more often than normal. 


Add some sass to your class,
Jenna