The Mike S. shuffle

My chair at work does not face the door. Yes, I'm saying that when someone enters the room, I must swivel around to see who it is. 

I realize not only is this poor feng shui, but it also makes me very nervous ever since reading The Autobiography of Malcom X: As Told To Alex Haley in high school (wouldn't Mr. Root's authorship of the book technically make it a biography? Shrug.)

I have worked at my current place of employment long enough, however, that I now recognize who is approaching my desk by the sound of his or her shuffle. It's true. Each person's legs, arms and clothing rub against each other in such a distinct rhythmic pattern that long before someone darkens my door, I know if it's Jared or Josh, James or Jim.

Now if I could just determine a way to keep the whole damn lot of them from ever coming into my office, I'd be set.