Hell is other people - Happy Clappy

Today was one of those days at work. Every meeting I had was with a cross between The Girls Next Door and a Duracell Bunny .

You walk into their office and they don't just say hello. They screech-sing at you:

"HI!"

That's when you know how it's going to go. Throughout the meeting they will be beaming blinding positive energy at you. Conversation will be peppered with a sprinkling of annoying Americanisms such as "awesome", "kinda" and "totally". And any input will be immediately followed by "You are so right!!!!" no matter what BS you spout at them.

Where the hell do they get the energy? How come they find their everyday job so delightful? Why aren't they tired and run down and bloody well sick of the rain like I am? Is there some secret store of happiness and bounciness that only American citizens have access to?

Sometimes I fantasize about putting on my thickest English accent and seeing if I can get away with something like:

"I think the point you're making is startlingly simultaneously morbidly fascinating and patently puerile, and I think that we should sketch out some action points round it so we can take this forward, align our efforts and ensure ongoing collaboration."

But I haven't got the energy to be bothered to do it.