Illusion of privacy

Last week, Stefanie wrote about how she has recently realized that her neighbors only see her when she is looking her very worst. And it got me to thinking about my own neighbors, both in my apartment building and in my office. And I realized that I have a very specific attitude about nearby neighbors: we are, or at least we should be, mutually complicit for the sake of creating an illusion of privacy.

Everyone knows, for example, that you can hear your neighbors in their apartments. We've all complained about the frat boys down the hall and their excessively loud parties, the argumentative couple next door, and the family upstairs who seems to take particular joy in dragging the furniture around at four in the morning. And honestly, as apartment buildings go, ours isn't so bad.

Yes, I can occasionally smell what Next Door is cooking for dinner, and yes, I do know that Other Next Door enjoys midnight showers, followed by an elaborate clothing selection routine that involves dragging wire hangers across metal closet bars that sound like they are positioned approximately three inches from my head. And yes, Upstairs does seem to enjoy a particular game that I like to call Stomping Around in High Heels In Hopes of Causing the Floor to Cave In.

But for the most part, it isn't so bad. And here's why: I can't put faces to these actions. Next Door might be having taco salad for dinner, but I don't know who they are. Other Next Door might be dressing for a late-night drag show while Upstairs is incessantly pacing to forget her sorrows, but I have no idea what they look like while they're doing it. I don't know anything about them. And I like it that way.

I don't WANT to meet my neighbors. I don't want to be embarrassed exiting the apartment in case they just overheard the very private conversation we just had, or in case they're disgusted by the dinner we just cooked. And I don't want them to be embarrassed knowing that I can now pinpoint the high-heels wearer as a burly, middle-aged man. As long as I don't know who these people are, their activities remain anonymous, and so do ours.

Unfortunately, this isn't possible at work. The people in the cubicles near mine have a lot in common with me. We work together, in the same department of the same company. We both suffer the plight of not having been deemed worthy enough to have an office with a door that closes. We sit through meetings together and we work on projects together. And sometimes we have to make personal phone calls while at work.

I only wish that I could pretend that I didn't know who these people are as they discuss their personal issues over the phone two feet from my ear. But I can't. So I propose that we do the next best thing: Let's pretend that we can't hear each other, even though we both know that we can. I won't discuss your daily fights with your husband* if you don't ask me about my upcoming surgery appointment. Don't interrupt me to suggest a great beach as I discuss potential family vacation spots with my sister, and I won't start recommending antidepressant brands for your father.

And whatever you do, when you hang up the phone, don't justify to me whatever it was that you were just discussing. Please don't tell me the background story to your child's biting problem, or the reason why your mother just had to quit her job. I don't want to know why it's such a bad idea for your best friend to leave her husband or why your cousin had to give away her dog. I want to pretend like I didn't hear your conversation at all. I certainly won't be discussing it with anyone else. In return, all I ask is that you do the same for me. Don't ask me for more details about what I was discussing, don't interrupt me while I'm on the phone even if you think that what you have to say is highly relevant. And for the love of god, please don't act like the fact that you can hear my phone conversations from where you sit means that you have the right to go discussing them with anyone else.

Cube life is barely tolerable as it is. I think we all need to sign a pact agreeing to the above terms--that we acknowledge that sometimes we will hear things that nobody wants us to hear, due simply to the nature of cube farms. The best thing we can do is create the illusion of privacy for one another by trying not to listen, refraining from offering commentary, and certainly not repeating what we've heard. In return, you can rest secure in the knowledge that your colostomy secret is safe with me.

*Note: All examples are invented by me for the sake of argument. I would never violate my cubicle neighbors' actual privacy.