The Finer Details Are Foggy

(We are under a fog advisory; you can barely see the vehicle in front of you. I have to get up pretty early, partly because of the fog, but mostly because I live about an hour away from where I work. The road I take to work is under construction. I stroll into work — kind of late because of the fog and the extra time on my commute — and get settled at my desk, and I mention how bad the fog is near me. I am not the only one who lives outside of the city, but I am one of two who drive an hour or so to work every day. Everyone else drives 15 to 30 minutes, tops. The moment I mention how bad the fog is, I almost instantly regret it. I have one coworker who thinks EVERYTHING is a competition.)

Coworker: “Well, it’s worse over where I live. I live in the country!”

Me: “I mean, I kind of do, too. My town is in the middle of nowhere. You couldn’t even see two utility poles in front of you.”

Coworker: ” Yeah, but it’s still worse in the country.”

Me: “I know. There’s road construction in my town, remember? I have to take back-roads. I mean sure, the main road I usually take is still a country road, but I have to drive quite a while on gravel, now. And that’s terrifying in the fog.”

Coworker: “So what? I have to drive gravel every day.”

Me: “Not in fog.”

Coworker: “But I still have to drive on gravel every day!”

Me: “You live much closer to work. You also have to remember, I drive an hour every day.”

Coworker: “What does that have to do with it? I have to drive 25 minutes every day! Do you know how foggy it is?”

(Of course. Because 25 minutes is much worse than an hour. I should have stopped the conversation long before.)

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