I hope everyone had a happy, trauma-free Fourth of July. Li’l Sis and I are still recovering from Sibling Smash 2008 in Washington, D.C. – and I totally plan on recapping all the festivities. Just not right now, for I am tired.
My blogging may be few and far between from now on. I’ve just moved offices (and jobs) and while I wish I could say I will be too busy to blog, the truth is my computer is rather out in the open, so surreptitious So You Think You Can Dance recaps may not be possible (I know you're devastated - try to remain calm).
The short version of everything: last Tuesday, my new boss called me and told me to pack my stuff. I was surprised because I had been told that there was no space for me down in her office, so I would not be physically moving, but my new boss was frantic to get me out of my old place, probably figuring that my old boss would continue to badger me with my old responsibilities. Rather than wait for an office to open up, my new boss decided to plant me in her office suite’s workroom/kitchen. Yeah, I know. I’m trying very hard not to be offended (my pride is a dangerous, fickle thing), and I have to constantly remind myself that this move is part of a much larger master plan to demoralize my old boss and set me up for a grander situation down the road. Buuuuuuttttt, I’m in the kitchen. Right next to the coffee maker. And the supply closet. So on Tuesday and Wednesday, I spent time packing up my desk, throwing out old stuff, dusting, and so on... and in between all that, I had to help my old boss hold her sh*t together. There were tears, but I'm pretty sure she was only crying because she was slowly realizing all the boring, mundane, officey crap she would have to do herself now that I was gone. I wanted to say SUCK IT UP! but I couldn't get a word in over the sobs.
Anyway, the new space is... well, it is what it is, but at least the people are nice.
I feel like I’m slowly turning into that guy from Office Space; the one who couldn’t bear to be parted from his stapler. True story: I totally kept my old stapler. I love it and it is mine. *Aside* If you haven't seen Office Space, then you have no idea what I'm talking about. That's a shame. Go rent it (haste post-post haste)... it may change your life a little bit). *Aside complete*
The past few weeks at work have been so surreal. Anyone who knows me is aware of my paranoid streak, a trait that has served me well in the past, if not made me just a teensy bit misanthropic. On the surface, I sense that all the players involved in my reassignment have the best intentions, for me and for themselves, but I can’t help but feel, simultaneously, a huge cloud of indifference hovering over the entire production. In other words, while they mean no malice, they don’t have my best interests in mind, either. I’m also getting weirded out by all the niceties being thrown my way: assurances that the move is a huge compliment and promises of future pay-offs. My new boss likes to plead for patience and demand my adaptability at the same time. All of these things, taken together, only convince me further that no one, least of all the people in charge, have any clue what is going on or what they are doing. If they are soooo confident in my abilities in regards to the position they have created for me, then why do they insist on tossing me about like a swimming-pool noodle, instead of treating me like a new, valued employee? And if this is all about my old, unpopular boss, why did I get stuck with all the inconvenience and stress of reassignment?
It’s really no wonder that I’ve had a hankering to play chess lately. For once I’d like to a knight or a bishop, instead of lowly pawn.