Can I be petty for a moment? I’m obsessing over a desk, or really what it represents.
So a guy is moving into our space. This guy is someone I like and respect, but I’m not entirely sure what his responsibilities are and how he fits into the food chain relative to me. Why this is important to me, I don’t know. Technically, we’re on the same level, but I think realistically, he’s higher up in the pecking order.
So his desk arrived today–and it’s huge. Me and the web guy, who share the office full time, plus the language guy, who’s there half time, have hand-me-down, small wooden desks. Most of the time, you can’t see the top of my desk. It’s piled with books and papers and folders. I’m a have-to-have-everything-right-in-front-of-me person.
So the desk has solidfied my feeling that this guy is “better” than me and made me feel all jealous. It’s just stupid, really, for me to feel this way. And I’m harboring horrible feelings like he’s been sent to spy on us or something. It’s just icky and I have to get over it. Thus, I’m blogging it, purging it from my mind until I nearly walk into the desk–and all it represents–tomorrow morning. Breathe deeply, count to ten.