I've decided that if I had to sum up my life's philosophy with two existing songs, those songs would be "Don't Panic" by Coldplay and "End of the Line" by the Traveling Wilburys.
I don't have much to do yet at my new job, which is why I have time to sit around thinking about these things.
And now, something entirely unrelated ...
When I left my old job, I went from having an office with real walls and a real door and a real window that could be opened and closed for climate control. Now I work for a Very Large Company, and every morning when I come in, a man dressed like a farmer grabs me by the ear and shackles my ankles to my stall in the CubeFarm. I am surrounded by 3.5 gray foamy cube walls with a doorway-sized opening so that I may exit the cube. However, to me this space looks very much like not only a cattle stall, but like a hamster pen as well, and the urge to lay down some wood shavings and put a wire mesh lid on my cube is almost too great to resist. I just haven't figured out yet how the hell I'm going to install the giant exercise wheel and an oversized version of those ticky-ticky water bottles.
To compensate me for this very obvious blow to my comfort level, the Very Large Company pays me a larger salary than did my previous place of employ, and that is very good. I'm still adjusting, however, to the idea that 40 hours a week in the CubeFarm means giving up all semblance of privacy I once had. I'm so very acutely aware of the fact that everyone who sits within 15 feet of me hears every word of my phone conversations of a personal nature. There are roughly 10 people, most of whom I know only on a first-name basis, who know the following information:
1. Marc and I have been trying to buy a house for a while now.
2. We were having trouble getting approved for a mortgage because at one point in my life, I was very, very stupid with money, and I had to get that all straightened out before I could get a pre-approval.
3. We got a shitty counteroffer when we bid on the first house we wanted to buy, and we had to reject it, because it was just that shitty [what kind of asshole counters to ask for $2,500 OVER asking price?!]
4. Our realtor in the above scenario was very shady, and we had to fire her and get a new realtor ... a realtor who doesn't do things like encourage buyers to sign really shitty counteroffers because the realtor's best friend is the seller's listing agent.
Thankfully, my co-workers are not privy to other sensitive information divulged on the workplace phone, because I was smart enough to run outside with my cellphone when I had to make an appointment for a pap smear. I really don't care if my co-workers know the first name of our loan officer, but I draw the line at them having knowledge of anything having to do with my pelvis.
That's my sage advice for today, kids. Never let your coworkers hear you talking about your pelvis.
posted by Kate at 4:14 PM link/comments
