It’s Hard to be Antisocial When You’re at Work
So I go to work now. Most days, anyway. The workspace I occupy at my sometimes-job is separated from most of my other work colleagues’; it’s a small office room instead of a cubicle, roughly twentyish by fifteen feet. One other person shares this space with me, but as he’s often away on meetings and trips I am usually by myself most days when I roll out of bed and remember that I have a job. I’m not entirely sure of the reasons behind this peculiar segregation, but three possible explanations come to mind:
1.) Given my normally forgetful accident-prone status, and that the tiny office is located right in front of the president’s, they might have thought my potential for havoc would be immense if I were set loose far away from the lulling, commanding presence of my immediate superior.
2.) As the day ends and night beckons, many of the people working late may feel nervous at the idea of sharing office space with an unkempt, ghostlike pasty-faced woman of seemingly Japanese/Korean extraction. In the event that my limbs start twitching as if independent of the rest of my body, or if odd gargling sounds begin to issue from the back of my throat, or if I impulsively decide to crawl on the floor and twitch like Chowder with Tourette’s Syndrome on my way to the pantry, they can feel assure themselves that the distance that separates my space from their own guarantees them, at least, a head start.
3.) They’ve read this blog, or any other previous incarnations.
Still, I find more benefits to this setup than anything detrimental. I don’t necessarily need to commingle, for instance. I have all the social conformity of a bloated one-eyed pug, and I relish in the tiny office space in the same way a hermit would thrive in a dank cave, if the dank cave also had electricity and airconditioning and free internet because hermits still have to check up on their Facebooks from time to time, too. Every once in awhile, I sally out of my little well-lit cocoon to go to the bathroom or be tempted out by offers of free food left over from daily executive meetings. I see no logical basis in going out to have lunch in groups with fellow office workers; I would be too busy stuffing my piehole with food to warrant decent conversation, anyway; especially knowing that the inevitable first question everyone asks me is if I am Filipino, followed immediately by “Really? I would have pegged you as being Japanese/Chinese/Korean/insert typical Asian ethnicity here instead!” About the only disadvantage I find is the general choice of music being piped out over the speakers; Taylor Swift and Jonas Brothers and old Britney Spears songs. No one notices me straddled over my table with my hands over my ears groaning “Make it stop! Make it stoooop!”
Once, my telephone rang. I picked it up, only to be confronted by the voice of my colleague, calling my line extension from just beyond my open door, where she was sitting: “Erin! For God’s sake, say something, anything! You’re too quiet in there!”
Often enough, she’s also the same girl who usually tries to lure me out of my little office womb with free snacktime noodles as bait, or peeking her head in and attempting nonchalant conversation. While I appreciate her efforts at trying to steer me back into humanity’s cesspool with open, forgiving arms, I sometimes worry that if I fail to be responsive to her motherly weaning she might blame this impending defeat (and I have been at this for more than twenty years now to know that she can’t win) all on herself, or self-implode as a result.
But I don’t rate myself all that highly on most other folk’s list of things to feel sorry for, right up there with Fox news’ dignity and snails and maybe kids at the special Olympics, so I’m not holding my breath.
Technically, this was, and still is, supposed to be a part time job, in that I come to work only when they need something for me to perform, like webpage maintenance or database management or bark like a well-trained seal. I was such a a naive little innocent back then. The department I work in was initially moving to new office spaces inside a nearby mall, but my boss preferred to have us remain in this current office setup while the rest of the personnel moves; in case, he said, he was angry and wanted to yell at someone.
It’s a nice feeling, knowing you are this wanted.
