You know someone made a staffing error when other employees begin racing each other to get parking spots in the back lot just so that they don’t have to go through the front doors and be forced talk to the receptionist.
I’m not much of a social creature. I do have a group of great friends that I see now and then. But when it comes down to day-to-day interaction at work I tend to keep to myself.
This includes lunching.
I have friendships also with most of the guys in my department, so lunch with them isn’t something I turn down often. Beyond them, there’s one woman at the office I’d really call my friend, and that’s it. I’ll go out somewhere tasty to eat with almost anyone every now and then, but beyond that, I’d much rather eat alone.
I tend to do that in my office, at my desk.
There’s a little conference room I have to pass to get to my office, and people often eat their lunches in there and watch the big screen television.
I try to scoot past unnoticed but it doesn’t always work that way.
If they spot me, I get hollered at. “Come sit in here with us!”
Saying, “Sorry, I’ve got work to do,” doesn’t cut it, because then I get the, “But you should stop and take a break at least to EAT for God’s sake!”
So I am then obligated to stop and eat with them.
I try hard not to ever be rude to anyone. Blunt? Yes. Rude? No.
Office politics make it so that it would be seen as rude, a snubbing, if I say, “No, thanks,” and then go eat alone in my office.
It’s not that I dislike them… well, some of them… I just really don’t want to sit in there and watch re-runs on the television with them, listening to them jabber. I’d much rather sit alone at my desk, a little music going in the background, reading science journals and webcomics.
-sigh-
Is that too much to ask?
(If you’re a wussy man, and don’t want to read about my period, stop reading this entry NOW. Just so you can’t say I didn’t warn you. And by the way, if you’re an adult and hearing women talk about their monthly still freaks you out… you need to get over yourself. It’s a fact of life.)
How does one explain to one’s male coworkers who are asking why you are leaving so early…
that you HAVE to leave…
because your flows are heavier than normal and you just realized…
that your pants are wet?
All the pants I own are black, so it’s not highly noticeable.
“I’m having girl problems.”
Does that suffice, I wonder?
Because while I like to be blunt sometimes, I just see no reason to tell them I’m bleeding like a stuck pig and should have worn the Super tampon today instead of the Regular.
No. Don’t think they really need to know that.
I was so excited to move into a real office… and then found out I’d be sharing one. The smallest one in the building, actually, and there are two of us along with all of our stuff crammed into it. I’m still grateful for the office… and I get along with my office mate… but I’d pay someone under the table if they’d give me my own space.
Today I found out I am indeed fully sharing this new project I’ve been super excited about with someone I’m not exactly looking forward to working with. (By not exactly I mean not at all. Nice guy, but he gets on my nerves, and has to argue about every little thing. Here I was, thinking I was going to have freedom to create and create and create… but no… I know he’s going to question every little thing I do.)
And I spent my day today tied up in others’ tedium.
I love my job. I’m lucky in that, while of course I’d rather not work (who would given the choice)… but I’m lucky in that I can look forward to something I get to do in each day. My gripes are minor.
I’m just really bummed I have to share that project.
I know, I know, I’m the new kid, the youngun, the green one, and the least knowledgeable right now, and I don’t deserve anything to myself for the time being. Doesn’t mean I don’t long for it.
Maybe one day. *sigh*
If you think about it, working in IT is kind of like… being a daycare teacher.
People come to you all the day long with questions they should probably already know the answers to, it being necessary to their lives and all.
A majority of the people don’t understand the rules of what you should and shouldn’t do.
And if one of them gets sick, you are exposed directly to it and are probably going to catch it.
It never fails.
You may go an entire quarter and not see this one user, but then the third day they have the flu, with a racking cough and runny nose, they’re knocking down your door with some problem that needs immediate attention.
“I can’t print!” she says hoarsely, and hacks a lung up into the tissues wadded damply in her hand.
Oh, God, I think. Maybe it’ll just be printer failure, and then I won’t have to step into her Should-be-Quarantined Office and touch her Keyboard of Death.
And indeed, part of it was printer failure. I hovered outside her office door and urged her to try her print job again, after I had cleared the shredded paper from the innards of the machine and made naughty promises to the paper drawer if it would stop reading faux paper jams. (That works every time.)
She tried it again… and I discovered the printer wasn’t even getting the data.
Damn it.
I tried to hold my breath while I was in there.
And when I was done, I made a mad dash to the bathroom and tried to scrub away any virus that escaped on my hands.
But I’m probably already infected.
Don’t people know that’s what SICK TIME is for? There’s a reason companies give you that: so when you’re really sick, you don’t drag your sorry ass to work and spread your disease all around, you freaking walking infection! Bah!
