In an astounding feat of social obliviousness, local man Eric S. powered through a mundane story about his weekend drywall repair, despite his coworker Nate L. peppering in at least three “Damn, that’s crazy” responses. The phrase, typically a foolproof conversational stop sign, did nothing to slow Eric’s steamrolling tale about 2x4s and the complexities of joint compound.
“It’s like he thought I was hanging on his every word,” said Nate, exhausted. “I even threw in an ‘Oh wow,’ which is reserved only for emergencies, but nope—he just kept going.”
Observers report that Eric’s story about noticing a tiny crack in his living room wall was relayed with the enthusiasm of a man describing his first skydiving experience. “And then I realized—this could be structural,” Eric allegedly said, his eyes wide with a passion only he could muster.
Despite Nate strategically sighing, glancing at his watch, and even attempting a quick email check, Eric pressed on. “The worst part is, he thought I was really engaged just because I wasn’t outwardly rude,” added Nate. “At one point, he went on this tangent about ‘the importance of good primer,’ and I think my soul left my body.”
Sources confirm that Eric eventually pivoted to comparing brands of spackle, blissfully unaware of Nate’s silent desperation. After the fourth “Damn, that’s crazy” (delivered with palpable resignation), Nate realized he had two choices: interrupt with an abrupt “Hey, got a meeting” or commit to the story’s bitter end.
“It was like a hostage situation, but for social norms,” Nate recounted, vowing to carry a decoy phone for future encounters. “Next time, I’ll just pretend I have a call from ‘Corporate’ or something. There’s no drywall story worth this.”
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