You haven’t heard the last piece of gossip? You don’t know that John and Mary divorced? You don’t watch those cheap Romanian TV shows, you don’t smoke and you prefer drinking coffee at your desk (as opposed to with your colleagues, while wasting time down the hall)? Then, sweetie, according to most Romanians, you are a loser that cannot enjoy life.

For a society where everything seems (but only seems) to happen in a rush, Romanians enjoy wasting time, this is the national sport, second only to football. And while at it, they do it in glamorous style. Romance people, they enjoy the show more than the subject, music more than lyrics and the good time they have with colleagues far more than being efficient for those paying their wages. One’s neighbour’s life is far more important than one’s own life. Buy an apartment, move in and give them a couple of days; your neighbours will learn who visits you, when, how often, whether these visits involve having sex or playing chess, what time you usually have a shower and even what newspaper you read. Dare refuse chatting with them now and then and they will turn in your worst enemies. Chat with them and see how big an intrigue, a plot a “simple” block of flats can be about.  One might argue that everything begins with pure curiosity. It does, but it goes all the way to what I call paranoia, to the extent to which your neighbours or colleagues will chase every move you make just to have a topic to discuss tomorrow. Sick? Yes, it is, but not only: both sick and perverse. I once asked some university colleagues what they gained by gossiping around the corner on one of our mates. They stared at me wordlessly: they simply did not get it. It felt so natural to them to gossip that challenging them seemed simply out of the line.

But let us get to facts. A regular day, Bucharest, Romania:

I get on the subway train at 8.45 AM, trying to read something. Two ladies standing next to me chat about their boss, while some youngsters argue loudly about their school projects; no, this does not occur out of professional interest, but rather out of excited envy for the others. I get to work. My colleagues are already debating on who should make the coffee today, everyone denies it is his turn. We all start our computers just to stand up, go grab a cup of coffee before it finishes, and then everyone goes down the hall or out in front of the building, according to the weather. Unless disaster (the war sort) strikes, nobody will come back in less than 20-25 minutes. Meanwhile, heartly debates on the traffic, one’s neighbour, the shop attendant, clients and providers will occur. Irrelevant to the company’s business, they all are, irrelevant to our lives, hell they are. But sweet like honey, pleasant like a summer breeze and absolutely necessary to our psyche like water in the desert, they are. Dare miss the reunion and you will turn in its main subject: that stupid black sheep that wants to prove he / she is better than us and gives the boss a bad example. Back in the office, people cannot work for long before their throat gets dry: “What are we eating today?”

Debate begins on whether it should be spring rolls, mici or pizza. And then more debate follows as to which catering company to choose, who should call them and who collects the money. Before you know it, score minutes have gone. Then, half an hour of work slowly - slowly passes before people start asking hastily when these jerks are going to come, for we starve to death here. Eventually they come and the office remains empty again. Half an hour of yum yum and chatting follows. Work spoils the day again afterwards, but not for long, as a cup of coffee and a cig ring the bell and everyone is out again. Back in the office, the silence is broken to pieces by a colleague that receives a phone call and then feels the urge to share with everyone else his personal problems; a debate about his plumber and mother-in-law begins and the whole office is divided in two teams taking the side of the former or latter. Those in favour of the mother-in-law eventually win. The office turns quiet, as everyone is already tired.

The day is slowly gone before you know it. People start complaining that it is 6 PM and they have to stay on and finish their tasks. Time management? Wut iz dat? Eventually I get back on the subway train. People look tired, as if this was Geneva, things worked efficiently and it was all due to these people. But the chat goes on; listen carefully and you will learn the whole day’s story from one of your fellow travelers. Getting off the train, I have to cross a wide avenue in order to get home. A car nearly flattens two people crossing it on the red light: they were chatting and did not even notice they attempted to cross the road illegally, or that a car was coming in full speed. But the driver stops just in time to spare their lives. The two pedestrians were lucky: the driver was alone in the car and he was not chatting over the mobile phone.