"Umm, is it me or does it smell like updog in here?"

Hey kids,

Momma's officially a grown-up. I have an office. With a real door and windows and stuff. After toiling for years (Decades?!??) in cramped cubicle pods, converted storage rooms and makeshift workspaces ala Les Nessman, I finally get my four walls.

But wait. Before you get all excited... take a look at this:



See that big black hole at the far end of this unused, soccer pitch-sized expanse of conferencing area? My office is immediately to the left of it. This picture is taken from the nearest doorway from which people can enter to come see me. So I feel like I have to jump up and run out to meet them halfway, or else be thought of as RUDE. What-ev. I'll probably get over that real quick.

Also consider this.... there is no temperature control. No air conditioning. Not a problem from early morning until about two in the afternoon. Then... well. Remember that scene from the movie Armageddon, when the sun rises on the asteroid and it gets so hot that mountains melt and shit blows up and Bruce Willis dies? Well, that's what it's like when the afternoon sun hits my side of the building. It's soul-meltingly HOT.

The rest of this two-story building is a hive of activity and cubicle pods (and blessed air conditioning!). So many people that I will never learn all their names, dozens of different subtle pecking orders that I will never grasp the complexities of, far-far-far too many people to ever make biscotti for come Christmastime.



Other than that, though, there are plenty of pros:

1) Alone! Gloriously alone. And quiet.

2) I get to decorate.

3) I can see who's coming to see me about 5 minutes before they actually walk through my door. Plenty of time to formulate an excuse to say "NO."

4) Nice view of the mountains. And the parking lot.

A few more cons:

1) I have to pretend that I hate it. I'm new to this particular branch of the company, and when I have to introduce myself, I'm asked, "Where will you be working?" When I tell them, I get a variety of reactions, and I've found it's just easier to act like I've been banished to Siberia. I'd much rather just hand out a business card that says, "Bitch, PUH-leeze. I've been with this company for eight years. I've seen things that no sane person should have to see and put up with shit that would make a lesser man cry. Damn STRAIGHT I deserve my very own hot box with a door in the back of the converted warehouse area."

2) Did I mention that it gets HOT?

3) I don't think the nighttime cleaning crew makes it back that far. There are bunches of dead flies on the floor beneath the windows that need to be vacuumed up. Poor things. Probably accidentally got stuck in there some afternoon after two o'clock and fried on the windowsill like bacon in a microwave.

4) This unused area -- while it is owned by the company that I work for -- has been up for lease for at least five years. It's an ugly space that needs a lot of work to make it usable. So that's why I'm hopeful that it will go at least another five years before someone comes along and leases it. But... if it ever IS leased, I will have to move.

5) I can only imagine how cold it's going to be in the winter!

Someday soon I will bring you kids in, give you a soccer ball and a skateboard, and you guys can keep yourself amused for hours right outside my door. Can't wait! Love you!