something about this building...

Apparently my office is made like a WWII bunker or something. I only get the absolute worst radio stations (oldies or elevator music or smokin' weed tunes), which makes me kind of freakin' irritable. Coming to work makes me irritable to begin with. Now, the building doesn't let anything in, but you can hear every single word co-workers are saying within the building. I swear, it's worse than cubicles. In cubicles the sound waves junk up and confuse your little tympanic membrane. But not in here. No. It's like coming to work in your underwear. My voice is PIPED into the offices around me. It would be ok if I were an EXTROVERT, but I'm not, I'm an INTROVERT. And I probably wouldn't care if I loved my job, but I DON'T--not anymore. Ugh. I feel like I've strapped my head to an electric sander, "Yes, that feels fine. No, please don't stop...I DO appreciate this. I WOULD like a spontaneous lobotomy. I DO like rigor mortis. Yes, please embalm me with boring, listless juice." Why can't I be one of those people who are just happy to have A job?