This just popped into my head after a similar question came up with a coworker…
Back a few decades ago I worked in Kendall Square in Cambridge, MA. My office window looked out towards another building about 15 feet away, and for some reason our floors were about 8 feet higher than the other building. So we could look down into the offices across the way.
The person in the office I could see into had his desk set up so that his back was to the window and he faced his office door. This gave me and my coworkers a clear view of his computer screen over his shoulder. He played Microsoft solitaire constantly, except when somebody walked in. He would very quickly close it so he wouldn’t get caught.
My coworkers and I actually tried to figure out his phone number, but never did. We wanted to call him up and tell him he should have played the red 9 on the black 10…
Our open office of five desks and 3-5 people was on the second floor; right outside our office was a short hall of 3 individual offices, but the people in the offices were often out of the office. We’d mostly all worked together for years by then, got along well, and were pretty informal.
We had an absolutely wonderful (if slightly ditzy) girl named Chrissy join the office one summer, fresh out of high school. She liked to dress up very stylishly - not like office wear, but like a popular cheerleader might wear to class, if that makes sense?
Anyway, we’re in the office one day, and Chrissy ducks out, then comes back in like one minute later, face absolutely flaming red. We ask what’s wrong and she could only stammer in response. She eventually got herself under control and said:
She’d stepped out to run some papers downstairs and, as she left the office, she felt her pantyhose start to sag, so she quickly ducked into one of the side offices, pulled up her skirt, and pulled her hose back up to the top of her thighs. When she looked up, there was a window-washer hanging off the side of the building, slowly and calmly wiping his squeegee back and forth across the window, looking directly at her and smiling kindly. She stared at him, mouth open, while he continued his slow, calm, almost meditative squgeeing across the window. As soon as her mind processed “unexpected man outside second floor window”, she bolted back to us.
It was literally like something directly out of a sitcom.