Open Space meets Work-Life Integration

I spent most of the day today working on a campaign for a new corn chip.

I did this while integrating a conversation from a nearby colleague who was integrating her new sunglasses into every work discussion, the last with a colleague who found a way to integrate this conversation into another conversation about his girlfriend troubles (“Am I supposed to pretend I like her friends?”) 

His girlfriend troubles then spontaneously integrated with a pointless status meeting which integrated with my chicken caesar salad, which had anchovies, which I hate, and must’ve said out loud because it was overhead by a passing co-worker (whom I didn’t know), who then integrated anchovy-hatred into a discussion about how we all use the word “hate” too freely. She was right, because at that moment I hated her more than anything in the world, and so I integrated that hatred at my credit card company who charged me $5000 for spray foam insulation, even though I don’t own a house. And if I did own a house, I wouldn’t buy one that’s made of goddamn ice-cube trays.

At which point it occurred to me that in the name of tray-integration I need to pick up some deli trays for party I’m throwing. But I got sidetracked because Andrea (pronounced Ahn-Dray-Uh) in the next cubicle decided to integrate her perfume into my oxygen space.

So got any ideas for tasty new corn chip? Because I’m fucked.