Stop telling me what you watched on Netflix last night.
I don't care what you watched on Netflix last night. I don't care that you're behind on Severance. I don't care that you're rewatching The Wire. I don't care that your wife made you watch The Bear and now you both have opinions about it.
I am at my hot desk. I have headphones on the desk in front of me and on my head. My calendar has a red block on it that says "deep work." My Slack status is the little do-not-disturb moon icon.
This is not subtle.
I worked from home for four years. I had three real conversations a day, all of them with people on my team about work things. I have been back in the office for nine weeks and last week alone I was told about a podcast, a documentary, two restaurants in the financial district that "everyone is talking about," and a guys daughter's recital. I do not know this guy's daughter. I do not know this guy.
Stop coming up to my desk. Stop hovering near my desk. Stop sliding into the hot desk next to me when there are eleven open ones on the other side of the floor.
The office is for the people who don't have anything to do. I have things to do.