Tuesday, February 15, 2005
when the ugly industrial walls close in...
Oh. My. God.
I hate it here.
I’ve moved to my new location in the plant. You might think that a move of less than thirty feet wouldn’t be terribly traumatic – but trust me, I’m f$%&ing traumatized.
My old office had one person in it – a lovely co-worker who appreciated food and kids and laughter as much as I do. Not many people stopped by to see her, and she spent a lot of time out in the plant.
My old office was a low-traffic area.
My old office had drywall painted light grey, on which I could hang two large Harry Potter posters, to keep some magic in my work life.
My old office had privacy.
Now I’m in the QC Lab. Granted, my back isn’t to the door (I would have flipped out hours ago if it was) but as it stands, I’m working in a f*ing fishbowl. I feel exposed, vulnerable, terrified. What feels like a huge window looks into the plant break room, so when folks are buying their sodas and sandwiches, they look into the Lab and see me at my desk.
People are in and out of this office all the time. There’s a copier about six feet away that is used a fair amount. Leads in the towers come in to test their setups (and whine and bitch and complain). Scheduling personnel drop off paperwork for the Lab ladies. My old boss haunts the office, still needing the equipment for his samples. My new boss comes in and radiates stress, needing everything done now now now even though I’m still working on projects she needed last week.
As I write this lament for my old work environment, three people are working in front of me, trying to get an old piece of testing equipment working again. They are fairly calm about it. But they’re still in my area and they are annoying the crap out of me.
Trying to maintain focus today has been close to impossible.
The walls in here are two shades of industrial beige glazed brick. Since it’s glazed, it can’t be painted, according to the maintenance department. This wasn’t my problem six months ago, so I didn’t worry about it. Now I’m worried.
There’s a corkboard up on the wall across from me that has gone way beyond filthy.
My ex-boss is leaning on my desk right now, watching the two ladies work on the machine, not even realizing that his fingers on my desk constitute a major breach of territorial boundaries. Ah – he’s finally moved. And here comes my new boss… stepping behind me to grab a binder, use the hole punch on my desk… ok Andi just breathe… apparently there is no sense of individual work space in the Lab, so I will just have to fill my desk up with all kinds of crap so that no one can come in and use it whenever they feel like it.
It smells like cigarette smoke in here. The smoke room (yes, we still have a smoke room, the result of a now-retired HR Manager who smoked Camel Unfiltered and always stood up for the rights of smokers here) is two rooms down, and the smell of it somehow gets into the ventilation. That as much as anything else makes me feel completely invaded and helpless.
The Hermione doll that Mother-In-Law got me a couple of years ago has taken up residence right in front of my monitor. Duckie’s picture and some essential rocks (rose quartz, carnelian and amethyst) are to the right of the monitor. I have unpacked my pens and pencils and my water glass.
But because this is considered a manufacturing environment, I can’t take my hair down at all, not until I walk out the front door or go visiting into someone else’s office space. I can’t wear the lovely watch that Tammy gave me for my birthday. I can't swear. I can't bang shit around when I get mad, even if it's harmless stuff to let off steam.
What are the rules here? Another manager walked in looking for someone – was I suppose to at least acknowledge him? Even though I’m kind of pissed at him for some previous inconsideration today? Do I say hello to everyone who walks in here and greet them with a friendly smile? I won’t get anything done!!!!!! Starting to panic.
I forgot my nicotine patch this morning. My period started today. I have no idea what I’m going to feed Duckie tonight. I can’t think. I just want to put my head on my desk and cry. And I can’t even do that.
Posted by andi at 3:21 PM