Our office at the city hall is relatively small. There is just enough room for five middle management people, five associates, and the usual come-and-go clients. All things considered, and barring the times when it got really cramped, the set-up worked quite well.
Until the two middle managers started getting on each others' nerves. At first, we didn't give it much thought and dismissed their catfights as a case of familiarity breeding contempt. It was even a source of minor amusement.
But then the spat between the two warring women has become increasingly irritating, and it just isn't funny anymore. A has taken to name calling and "invoking" the saints for ill to befall B. B has taken to thumping A's bag and declaring "fake, fake, fake." Both have taken to regaling those who cared to listen--and those who didn't--with versions of their "episodes," in what can only be a glorified version of agawan base.
The thing is the corporate gladiators are not exactly that young. Leaving all of us to conclude that really, immaturity knows no age.