Office Spaces

I guess that I’ll never be fit for office work. Or work that involves being around anyone else more than once for any length of time greater than fifteen minutes.

This means that I’m not suitable for doing anything other than becoming an underwater explosives scuba diver, or working as a tunnel driller, or maybe spending years doing some type of animal research in some remote jungle or the Antarctic.

I can give you three reasons why it’s best if I work in isolation.

1.      People do annoying stuff in offices. Don’t ask me why, but at three different places where I have worked (not spas), three different men, all at high-management levels, have felt it best to perform personal hygiene at work. The first time that I heard the snip of nail clippers, it took me a while to connect not being in my own bathroom at home to the noise I was hearing. “Who in the heck thinks, ‘Gee, my nails are getting long. I need to trim them. Let me reach right here in my handy-dandy office drawer and pull out my nail clippers, right next to my stapler, extra pens, and correction fluid.” I thought it was an anomaly – until I went to work somewhere else. To be fair, that was not the only reason that I left that first job. Imagine my horror when, at the second business, I heard that familiar – and now recognizable – snip, snip, snip sound. When I left the second place, I was somewhat immunized to the strangeness of combining personal hygiene and work. The percentage of why I left was – thanks to desensitization – smaller. Now I’m at a third office that, several times a month, I hear that same sound – and I’m flabbergasted. Nobody else seems to notice, which makes me wonder if a) I’m a complete jerk to care or b) Nobody else hears that sound or c) Everybody else does it, too. Where does this stop? I mean, eyebrow plucking and nose hair trimming is quieter, so maybe everyone does that, too, and I’m just not aware.

2.     People try to take away the money I’m earning at work, at work. I go to work to earn money, not give it away. I don’t carry a sign that reads, “Will work for food,” for a reason. I work for a paycheck, cash, cold-hard money. I need to pay for food, and drink, and a roof over my head. But from the time that I left the workplace to raise a family to the time that I returned, something happened. People started to have office parties for everything, and I mean everything. You are pregnant? Let’s have a shower. Your wife is pregnant? Let’s have a shower. Your wife is pregnant with your third child? Let’s have a shower. You are the financial officer and run the gift shop and you are about to stop doing one role? Let’s have a partial-retirement party. You name it, it’s a celebration. And it’s one that I’m required to somehow pay to attend. I don’t mind bringing a present, if I know you and I’m your friend. In fact, they wouldn’t even need to have a party for me to bring you a gift. But I cringe when that card to be signed is passed and the envelope is opened to insert money. Beads of stress perspiration form on my brow and my hands get clammy while the person passing around the card and envelope stands there, expectantly, watching. My mind whirls as I prolong my signature while I run through a list of questions in my head. “How well do I know this person? How close of friends are we? How much is this person liked by everyone else, and how big a jerk will I appear to be to everyone else based on what I contribute? Do I have to contribute if I already have a present – or I’m getting a present? How much is too much? How much is too little?” So many choices and, in my opinion, so better left outside the office workplace.

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3.     People want me support their child’s cause. I can do enough simple math that I realize that if I contribute to everyone who asks, whose child is trying to raise money for some cause, I’m going to wind up broke. I’ve purchased everything from candy, to packaged cookies, to gift wrap, to kitchen utensils – just so that your kid’s school can raise money for the latest cause. I’ve supported manatees, dogs, cats, wildlife of every size, shape and species imaginable. I’ve given goats and sheep to villages and provided well water. I’m not opposed to support. It’s important to believe strongly is something outside of oneself. But what I don’t believe in is a) Making your child’s mission my issue and b) Doing the work in place of your child. It’s your child, not you, who’s supposed to be raising money. Do as I did: Sic you kid on their grandparents. No grandparents in their right minds can turn down the doe-eyed expression of their offspring begging for money. “Grandma, I love baby bunnies. Don’t you? If you love them, and me, we need money to buy more hutches.” Heck, if either of my boyfriend's grandchildren asked, he’d fly clear across the country, chop down trees, and help build the cages himself. You don’t need to ask people who, even if they can’t stand working with you, can’t stand the idea of looking like the Grinch or Scrooge even more. So we dutifully shell out our dollars so that you don’t have to ante up to the table yourselves.

I have a lot more reasons why it’s best if I work remotely – without contact with the human race – but for now, please excuse me while I go write a check for some raw cookie dough.