OCD much?

The art gallery I call home from 9am-3pm five days a week is on the first floor of a high rise in Century City (technically Los Angeles). I sit in the front of the gallery so most people assume I'm the receptionist ...but alas, I am not. Who cares.

The great thing is that I am surrounded by glass walls and a glass door {which is not so great in an earthquake} but allows me to people watch all day long. Which mostly means watching the same 5-20 people 5-20 times a day, smoke cigarettes. And I envy them.

Beyond the 30 feet or so of planted palms and smoker section, is just another wall. A wall of another high-rise building.

I digress.

There is a man that sits in the lobby at the security desk. He is more a receptionist but maybe he's a graphic/web designer like me who just gets confused for the receptionist because he sits in the front.

I digress.

Regular receptionist/front desk man must be on vacation this week because every twenty minutes or so, a shortish, roundish man with a limp walks by and checks to see if our door is locked. And every time, I jump. Why? Because I sit behind a 24" imac and again, he is short, so I cannot see him coming ...limp and all.

Not only does he check the door latch when he walks by, on his way back from checking the door to the stairs {not 30 seconds later} he CHECKS OUR DOOR AGAIN....and I'm about to go give him a piece of my mind.

Maybe I'll just walk next door to the lobby and give him a post-it with my blog url on it.

ATTENTION SECURITY GUARD/FRONT DESK RECEPTIONIST MAN IN THE LOBBY OF BUILDING ON CENTURY PARK EAST ...CHECK YOURSELF BEFORE YOU WRECK YOURSELF BUDDY. You only get a couple more rattles before you see the wrath of 5'11" {in heels} Maegan coming at you. And let me tell you, it's not pretty! SO TAKE YOUR OCD ELSEWHERE.