Really? REALLY?

There are limitations to polite conversation.  Especially during that awkward silence when we're waiting for your unbearably and inexplicably slow computer system to pull up the information I've request.

You're a nice enough guy, really.  But I don't think you should be telling people that you're a reformed drug addict.  Good for you, though.  Really.  But you're 32 years old, and I know more about your life than I know about my brother's.  I don't need to know that you're straightening yourself out.  Or that you got your G.E.D. at 29.  

Especially not if you work for the company that runs our security systems.  

Especially not if your company has done a good job of screwing the pooch on synchronizing the database.

Especially if that's going to create 3 hours of worthless work for me.