Poor Greg

There's a guy that works down the hall from me in my building -his name is Greg. Greg looks like a Tim, so I always have to think hard before greeting him in the mornings. Example: I see Greg/Tim walking down the hall. The conversation in my head goes something like this "Is his name Greg? Or Tim? Greg? Oh yeah. It's Greg. Greg. Greg. Greg".... he approaches: I say "Heyyyyyy, good morning..." I never even end up saying his name. I have too much anxiety about calling him the wrong name.

Anyways - Greg. Yes, it's definitely Greg. I just double-checked his sign on the door before writing this post. So Greg had a good-sized office right down the hall from me. Floor-length windows. Similar to my own digs. Well the other day they started doing some work in our teeny mailroom. I asked what they were doing. They said that they were moving Tim into it. Oops - Greg. Moving Greg in. Into this teeny tiny office - that if he stood up could touch it wall-to-wall with arms extended. It's like a closet almost - with a glass door.

I feel so bad when I pass him in his new office closet. I wonder what must have happened to cause him to get a downgraded office. I better watch myself.

Poor Greg. First he was born with the wrong name. Then someone moved his office into a mailroom. I'll count my blessings.