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A short, meandering rant about how I accidentally became “the guy with an opinion” after weighing in on the placement of an office plant. From there it spirals into workplace silence, wine-fueled kitchen debates about economics, movie opinions I can’t defend, and the general social pressure to always have a take—even when you don’t fully know what you’re talking about. It’s observational, a little self-owning, and mostly about the exhaustion of being expected to land somewhere, all anchored by a plant that keeps surviving bad decisions long after everyone involved has moved on.