Worrying about the small stuff

“Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?” Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark


Despite rugged good looks, armed whip (and an occasional pistol) and an indestructible fedora, Indy still had fears to face. It wasn’t big giant boulders rolling inches away from his heals or a maniac tribal man attempting to pull out his heart. No. Indy feared the little stuff. Of all things, he was afraid of snakes.

When I returned to work after my maternity leave, I returned to an empty ‘in box’ that continued its void for weeks. Sales were incredibly slow and upper management needed to justify me occupying a place within the company. So, off they scooted me to another department to help out with random jobs. “Fine,” I thought “at least it’s work and I still have a job”. The only downside…I lost my little office.

Sure it was a dumpy little room in an aging little single-wide trailer that always smelled funny, especially when a family of rats would nest under the trailer, and then die (twice). Sure there was always a fine film of dirt on my desk and monitor that was kicked up from all the semi trucks passing by my window. Sure I shared a wall with the only bathroom within the other aging little trailers causing plenty of foot traffic past my door. But it was still my little piece of the valuable real estate here on the dusty nursery yard.

I figured, this would be a temporary move, just until work picks back up. Or at least that’s what I would tell people who wondered where I disappeared to, as I wasn’t there to say hi and chat a bit on their way to the bathroom.

This happened about ten months ago, and I’m still in my ‘temporary’ desk. I’m now in a nice air conditioned building that’s not built from aluminum. The people are truely great and at least I’m not the only female now. There’s tract lighting, a fire place and a kitchen. And it smells pretty nice, too.

But, somehow, I still miss my little office.

I still go in there every couple of days or so to grab labels for plants, and as I sit in my old familiar uncomfortable chair, I sigh a little.

That is until I yelped at what I saw.

Next to my beautiful vintage travel prints framed in serene blue mats and gorgeous mahogany frames, was a giant poster of different spiders thumb tacked to the wall. There I was, staring up at two dozen icky hairy spindly leggy spiders. I just about died. Not only am I completely disgusted and in fear of those horrible creatures, but…how dare someone attempt to 'decorate' my office! I then look around my desk and see that there are random papers and such that were obviously not mine. I glance at the phone that displays your name (which was blank since I’ve moved my extension next door) and see someone else’s name. Wonderful.

“So, did I completely lose my office?” I asked my boss on IM one day.

“Yep. Well, sort of. You’re sharing it with Antonio”.

“Fantastic”.

So, now I’m ‘sub-leasing’ my little office.

I’m attempting not to complain, too much, because I am still getting work and training on more things which ultimately is grounds for further job security. But, I have to admit, it’s a bit of a punch to my ego and a shaking down a peg or two from the so called corporate ladder (not that I was particularly high up, but if I fell, I might have sprained an ankle). Considering, my official title is almost meaningless now, I have no clue what to even sign my email signatures as. Temp Girl? Grunt Worker? That girl who does random stuff for everyone?

I guess, as long as I still keep getting a paycheck, it shouldn’t matter, right?

Elly
Organ Grinder’s Monkey