When I worked in hospitals, there was always a lot of other nurses around to talk to. If Dori wasn't available to answer a quick question, Jim was. If Janice wouldn't help me rob a bank, Ariel would. That sort of thing.
But here at Random County Mental Health, it's just me and GoodbyeNurse. He's a good nurse and a great co-worker, but really doesn't talk much. (I suppose I could always call up the nurses across the street at Random County Public Health if I want to chat with other nurses, but it'd be kind of weird.) One day, I hope to have a conversation with him that isn't work-related that lasts for more than three sentences.
Other than the fact that we're both breathing and we both have a BSN, GoodbyeNurse and I really don't have anything in common. He's a concrete-sequential thinker, organized, quiet, methodical, not one for idle chatter, always spell-checks his e-mails, and enjoys running marathons on his day off. I'm the poster child for high-functioning adult ADHD, embrace being abstract-random like it's a religion, distractable, chatty, have transformed sweet-talking pharmacies into delivering medications to our office into an art form, and will only be found running if someone is chasing me with a weapon. (Have I mentioned tht he doesn't talk much? It's driving me nuts.)
There's days when we work together really well. We split the work load evenly, and cover for the gaps in each other's skill set. It's like yin and yang.
And then there's days (usually the ones where we're forced to share an office space, because neither of us "play well with others") where it's a lot more like Tom and Jerry.