The Office Life: A Memoir
If you’ve ever worked an office job, this one is for you. Perhaps you’ve seen that I recently said adios to my current job and I’m off to greener pastures (err sidewalks) in NYC.
But I’ve worked an office job all my life and I’ve found some things to be universally irritating.
Let’s begin at the top.
Before I’ve walked in and sat my keys down, three people have asked me a question. Perhaps the sleep in my eyes and my coat buttoned to the top gave the illusion that I had been here for an hour already and was ready to go. I need time to warm up.
I sit down, the voicemail light is blinking. It wasn’t blinking when I left. What was so important that you had to either call me after 6 pm or before 7 am? Absolutely nothing.
Outlook is of the devil. No matter how much you clear it out, 700 emails flood in as soon as you open it. There are e-mails about e-mails to come tomorrow. There are e-mails about e-mails that were never sent. There are e-mails about e-mails no one read and therefore didn’t do. And no e-mail about free lunch. The rest of these will wait then.
There goes the super chipper morning person. You silently pray they choke on sunshine.
Time continues and I can no longer avoid the break room. Also known as the land of misfit toys. Why must someone always heat up fish and funk for lunch? Is there nothing else?
The making of small talk is nails on a chalk board and the day is OVER if someone has taken my lunch. I’ll spend the rest of the day on Facebook in pure protest. Like you knew it wasn’t your delicious goodness in that bag with my name on it so this was intentional psychological war fare.
If I make it through lunch without killing someone the middle of the day is a struggle.
You’ve never seen creativity until you’ve seen someone pretend to be doing work while doing other things. I’m g-chatting in a microscopic chat window and have mastered tweeting without looking at my phone. I’m bored but I have work to do. This is a daily struggle.
The day can’t end without you almost cussing someone out. There’s the person that hovers over me with their crotch resting gently at my shoulder explaining things to me that could have been sent in an e-mail. This person does not read body language. There’s the personal call going on where I earn your co-worker has a foot fungus. Awesome.
Four o’clock is also of the devil. It’s just close enough to five that it gives you hope but it also goes by the slowest of any hour. Multiple trips to get water, use the restroom, and to the copier only pass 10 minutes.
Right before I give up hope, it’s 5pm and I pack up like a fugitive on the run from the feds. It never fails my boss wants to have a conversation. Haven’t we both been there all day? This had to take place at 5pm?
And then freedom comes. Finally in the car I speed off like “F-this job!” Only to get home and realize I have to go back in a few hours.
Who said we wanted to grow up and be adults again?
Read more from Dee Rene at http://laughcrycuss.com