I sit in the last cube in my row, and right across the aisle behind my back is a huge window that overlooks the parking lot. Every single day sometime between 2 and 3pm, this foreign dude with absolutely no cell phone etiquette (and apparently no cell phone signal in any other part of the building but here) will stand behind my cube, face the windows, and yell stuff like, "BOMBU MOSFUT! JIMBONIE SLOMBOSPU!
This gibberish will be interspersed with fine english phrases like, "Right.....right." and "OK." These are usually spoken at a more human-like volume. I have no idea why.
It would be bad enough if I actually understood Ndebele or OshKosh B'gosh or whateverthefuck language he's herniating himself with, but since I don't, it just drills itself into my head and ricochets around like a handful of ball bearings in an empty coffee can. Try participating in a conference call with someone screaming "GUTU! NOTUNOBU!" ten feet behind you.
It's not easy.