And later Boring Stories Bob came to my cubicle. He didn't smell like cigarettes and his breath was fresh and minty, but he went on for like 15 minutes. For a while I was listening, then I was like, ok, I'm pretending to listen while I work, and then after a while I was not even pretending to listen while I worked and he just kept going and going. I'm not sure if a giant fan would help with this situation.
I can deeply sympathize with you on this one. There were so many times I was stuck in my cubicle and while some idiot was droning on and on I was fantasizing about a trap door under the desk I could slip into and disappear if only he'd turn his head (it's always a he). I found the only actual way to get free of them was to get up and leave myself.