He Keeps Looking At Me From A Distance At Work

So, there’s this guy at work, and he keeps staring at me from across the office. Not a creepy, “I’m-about-to-steal-your-lunch” stare, but a slow, distant gaze that makes me question my entire existence. It’s like he’s trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube using only his eyebrows.

The Anatomy of a Cubicle Stalker

Let’s call him Dave. Dave has the perfect distance—far enough to avoid small talk, close enough to make me spill coffee. Every time I look up, he’s there, frozen, like a deer in headlights with a receding hairline. I’ve started timing his stares: seven seconds is the average. That’s longer than most TikTok videos and longer than my attention span during budget meetings.

Here’s a surprising fact: According to a 2022 study, 67% of workplace staring is actually just people zoning out while thinking about lunch. Dave might be pondering whether to get the tuna wrap or the chicken Caesar. But in my head? He’s plotting my demise or, worse, asking me to join his fantasy football league.

Theories That Are Definitely Correct (Probably)

I’ve developed a conspiracy theory that Dave is a secret productivity spy, hired by HR to monitor my typing speed. Every time I check Instagram, he leans forward. Coincidence? I think not. Or maybe he’s just trying to read my monitor—a classic move for people who forget their glasses. Either way, I’ve started typing random words like “BANANA HAMMOCK” just to confuse him.

Another possibility: Dave has superhuman peripheral vision and is actually looking at the water cooler behind me. The water cooler is brand new—it has a digital screen that says “Stay Hydrated, Mortals.” It’s very compelling. I don’t blame him. But still, Dave, a simple nod would suffice.

He Keeps Looking At Me From A Distance: 14 Possible Reasons Why

What Did I Do Wrong?

Did I accidentally wear mismatched socks again? Yes. Did I call the CEO “dude” during a Zoom call? Also yes. But that was last month. I’ve since apologized with a fruit basket. The staring started yesterday. I think Dave is holding a grudge over the fruit basket—apparently, he’s allergic to kiwi. Oops.

Here’s a mind-blowing fact: Humans have a pupil dilation reflex when they see something they like. So if Dave’s eyes are huge, he either loves me or just saw the office cat. Unfortunately, we don’t have an office cat. We have a 401(k) match. So, awkward.

He keeps looking at me from a distance

How to Survive the Staring Olympics

My new strategy is to out-stare him. I lock eyes and hold it until one of us blinks. Last time, I won because he sneezed. I felt like a champion. But then he started smiling—a slow, unsettling grin. Now I’m wondering if he’s not staring at me, but through me, into the void of my soul. Or maybe he just forgot his contacts. Probably the contacts.

If this sounds familiar, here’s your survival guide: Wave. A simple wave breaks the spell. If he waves back, you’re safe. If he ducks under his desk, you have a problem. Or he’s just clumsy. Either way, laugh it off. Worst case? He’s writing a book called The Art of Distant Staring and you’re the main character. Free publicity.

He Keeps Looking At Me From A Distance: 14 Possible Reasons Why

The Grand Finale

Yesterday, I walked over to Dave’s desk. I said, “Hey, my face is up here if you need it.” He turned tomato red and admitted he was trying to read the clock behind me. The clock is analog. He’s 42. I’m still not sure if that’s better or worse. But now he waves every time I look over. Problem solved. Or is it? Because now I’m staring at him to see if he’s waving. This is the coworker version of “I’m not touching you.”

So, to all the Daves out there: use your words. Or just buy binoculars. Either way, stop making me question my entire life’s choices over a turkey sandwich. And to everyone else: remote work is calling. Literally.