Sunday, July 16, 2006

Long Time, No Time

In an office, you're new until someone newer comes along. It doesn't matter if you've been in your job for half a century; you're still the new kid unless there's some spry biddy at the next desk with a mere forty years service under her girdle.

I'm very much the new kid, and rightfully so. I've been at my new job for something like two and a half weeks now, which means I'm pretty sure how to work the coffeemaker and I know three places to eat for lunch, but I still have to fake a laugh when they tell that joke about that time? When Chuck got in that argument at that meeting in London? And he was slamming the table? Whoo, boy.

The greatest part of negotiating your way into a corporate climate is finally, after a few weeks mainly concerned with learning how to do your job, finding your office crush. I found mine at a two minute full-company meeting. From the back, I watched unfamiliar man after unfamiliar man in khaki pants file into the room until there, between two Publishing Women (buttondown, chunky necklace, hair affixed to head with unfashionable claw clip), appeared The Hot Guy.

On a later trip to the mailroom on a different floor I found his office, and therefore his name, but that's not the point. He'll be The Hot Guy as long as I work at my new job, because he'll always be silent in a meeting, or on another floor, or (hope against all hope) in the elevator with me.

Work can't work without someone to salivate for. I have longer hours now, doing harder things that leave my brain sort of mushified by the time I leave; when I get home, I'm able only to shove a quesadilla into my face, play a few rounds of Bejeweled, and pass out on the couch. The cube life needs a highlight, a hot, sort of brooding highlight who may or may not ever walk by, but he could, he could!

2 Comments:

Anonymous Rebecca said...

Hot people make work worthwhile.

How's the new job going? Is there potential for job enjoyment?

9:52 PM  
Anonymous brad said...

dear bulimia sparks, why don't you write something more often than once every ten days? signed, the leading cause of your eventual death.

1:12 PM  

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