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August 8, 1997 Cliques. I thought I'd left these behind me in school. Not so. The ones that form in the office are perhaps even worse than those from my school days, because they are formed by adults who are supposed to be beyond that sort of behavior. But no, somehow that urge to clump, to group and to exclude follows us through our adult years. Today a large group of us younger folks from the office went to lunch up at Dupont Circle as we often do. We sat in a circle, indian-style on the grass. We ate our sandwiches and exchanged stories. There were a lot of us. There are some rather interesting people who tend to wander around Dupont during the day. I don't want to think about who hangs out there at night. Two of these Dupont denizens tried to break into our little circle. One merely coasted at the fringes, making comments about community and leadership. The other strode boldly into the center of the circle and sang "It's My Party and I'll Cry if I Want to" out loud. Very loud. We got up and left soon after that. Turning our eyes from the unsightliness of the homeless, the harmless lunatics whose brains just don't operate on our level. We walked away, laughing at the happenings, striding back into our office world, our normal little lives, to face the insanities of work once more. |