(Almost) Over and (Totally) Out
7 Comments posted by Kristi on Tuesday, September 18, 2007 at 10:09 PM
Today I packed up the office I never really worked in. It is my very first office of my professional career. Four walls that stretched to the ceiling. Big, solid, almost- soundproof door that closed. As far as corporate office space goes, my office is pretty swank. It's at least twice the size of my daughter's bedroom. The walls were painted a nice cream color. And even though I worked perhaps a combined 12 hours in the office in the seven months it was mine, I loved it so.
As a writer who needs quiet to work and has craved it for 10 long and noisy cube-dwelling years, I cannot tell you what a big deal this office was to me.
You see, I am not a cube person. (Are there people out there who like them?) I am not overly chatty at work. I like my handful of friends at the office, and everyone else can stay the ef out of my space. But when you're in a cube, you're not afforded that kind of luxury, because you don't have a door. People pop in and out without notice, and often end up scaring the living crap out of you in the process. In my company's former office space, my esteemed coworkers would often enter my cube unannounced, and without asking permission, conduct conversations with my cube neighbor on the other side of my wall. And many times, they would do this without saying one word to me.
"But you work from home," I know you're saying to yourselves. "You must have a home office in which to write, fill out your 45th application for What Not To Wear (and yes, I can nominate myself if I want to), and cut your fingernails down to wee tiny stubs in private, right?" Not exactly.
I share my "home office," (which has an entryway and no door, mind you) with Isabella's shit-filled trash can.
See, my home office (currently an utter and complete sty)
also serves as Isabella's downstairs changing room. And before ya'll think we're livin' la vida Hilton, and her bedroom and its changing table are four floors and 14 wings away from our main living area, our house is a mere 1,700 square feet. But because I am inherently lazy, I don't want to haul her up a flight of stairs every time I need to change her diaper. Hence the second changing station. In my home office.
As of next Friday, my last official day as a full-time employee, the office in my company's building won't be mine anymore and the only "office" I'll have is the one I share with a not-so-mysterious and omniprescent odor.
Arrivederci, my rare little slice of quiet, corporate heaven. Alas, I hardly knew you.
As a writer who needs quiet to work and has craved it for 10 long and noisy cube-dwelling years, I cannot tell you what a big deal this office was to me.
You see, I am not a cube person. (Are there people out there who like them?) I am not overly chatty at work. I like my handful of friends at the office, and everyone else can stay the ef out of my space. But when you're in a cube, you're not afforded that kind of luxury, because you don't have a door. People pop in and out without notice, and often end up scaring the living crap out of you in the process. In my company's former office space, my esteemed coworkers would often enter my cube unannounced, and without asking permission, conduct conversations with my cube neighbor on the other side of my wall. And many times, they would do this without saying one word to me.
"But you work from home," I know you're saying to yourselves. "You must have a home office in which to write, fill out your 45th application for What Not To Wear (and yes, I can nominate myself if I want to), and cut your fingernails down to wee tiny stubs in private, right?" Not exactly.
I share my "home office," (which has an entryway and no door, mind you) with Isabella's shit-filled trash can.
See, my home office (currently an utter and complete sty)
also serves as Isabella's downstairs changing room. And before ya'll think we're livin' la vida Hilton, and her bedroom and its changing table are four floors and 14 wings away from our main living area, our house is a mere 1,700 square feet. But because I am inherently lazy, I don't want to haul her up a flight of stairs every time I need to change her diaper. Hence the second changing station. In my home office.
As of next Friday, my last official day as a full-time employee, the office in my company's building won't be mine anymore and the only "office" I'll have is the one I share with a not-so-mysterious and omniprescent odor.
Arrivederci, my rare little slice of quiet, corporate heaven. Alas, I hardly knew you.
So you're leaving the glamour of the corporate world behind in exchange for the smell of Isabella's behind. I bet your old colleagues can't amaze you with the number of words they know. It's probably not as fun to ask them "where's your nose?", either.
I'm imagining it was really tough, maybe more so because your office was hard earned and your had very little time to enjoy the reward.
Still, your love for Isabella impresses me tenfold more!
I am SO happy to see your desk is as messy as mine ;-) And I am impressed you have a second changing station (I change Bridget on the floor!). I would *love* to have a real office at home but unless we move to a house with more space, that will never happen. I have to work at the dining room table so I can keep an eye on Bridget while she plays. Still, I wouldn't trade it in for having to leave the house each morning. ;-)
PS - hope everyone is back to normal at your house - sick babies are the most pathetic (although all the cuddle time is nice)
My desk is worse! No way I'd post a pic... GAH!
Congrats, Kristi! So-long office-ville... I never did like cubeville either. No privacy whatsoever.
Haha! I relate because I'm already there with the office. Except mine is even messier because I share it with my pile-gene husband
L-If you knew my coworkers, you'd realize that Isabella has a larger vocabulary than most of them.
Beagle-Thanks. She's worth it...most of the time, anyway. ;)
Melissa-If Isabella would play on her own while I worked, I'd sit in the ground and type! However, she's not at that stage yet. And yes, she's feeling better, thankfully. It's been a miserable week here though!
Marie-Nope. Adios, office.
Damselfy- If I shared my office with my husband, one of us wouldn't survive the week. :)
I was thrilled when I quit my job as an attorney. The only thing I hated leaving was my nice office. I felt so important! And people had to go through my secretary. My friends would giggle madly when they phoned me and she connected me to them. Somehow they didn't take me seriously. But, I felt pretty cool with that office.