You heard it here firsth. I predict volcanic things for my workplace. Lava forthcoming and scattered ash for some time to come, quite frankly. I don't mean any of this in a good way. I half expect to see James Mason wearing a toga and wandering through the set that is our now our office.
We are moving offices and today was packing day. We are moving into smaller offices. It promises to be straining. Those with offices who were not directors will be back in cubicles. Those with director titles will stil have offices, but they won't have doors.
"But at least it will be new and clean." This is the chorus line we have been hearing in the song of the move, for some time now.
It's been nice having an office, despite roommates, and I guess I am overdue for a humbling experience. Sort of. It was nice to, just once, have a potential date on the phone and hear myself saying, "Hold on, I have to shut my office door." Now I will say things like, "I can't talk right now. I am in a cube. Yes, a hexagonal structure, verily, yes, indeed."
Unlike our last move, in which two offices were moved into a glamourous new unified space, this event is punctuated with no optimism. Amid the chaos we had two editors visiting us as the ruins were created. I found myself panicking as I had to sift through five years of my own manure. I through away a lo of stuff and I left with more junk to toss into my apartment.
On Monday we will be in new, clean offices, but it still feels like the last days of Pompeii, and the volcano has yet to blow. Watch this space for details.
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