Because I’m now old and broken down, a veritable husky husk of a man, I’ve racked up quite a few experiences. And naturally, that extends to my work life.
Over the years I’ve encountered all manner of workspaces, ranging from no desk whatsoever (“Just get to work, ya bag of shit!”) to a cushy private office overlooking Warner Bros. Studios in Burbank. And everything in between.
That California office was certainly the most interesting. Since it was adjacent to the studio, we’d sometimes receive emails giving us advance warning of unusual activities that would be going down later in the day.
One, I remember, told us not to be alarmed if we heard several loud explosions during the afternoon. It wouldn’t be an emergency, they assured us, just the filming of an episode of Charmed, or whatever. Another time they tipped us off to a “helicopter rescue” that would be taking place the next morning.
Pretty cool stuff.
That office also came equipped with a great stereo, and a computer with absolutely no filters installed on it. The job itself was a real ball-masher, but my workspace was fantastic.
I’ve also shared offices with people, which has its good points and bad. In Atlanta one of my officemates LOVED speed metal, and death metal, and all that crapola. We’d take turns playing CDs on the communal stereo, and it seemed like his discs played for three days each. He was a black dude who loved Cannibal Corpse and Sepultura, and that kind of thing. Excruciating.
But the worst of all possible situations, in my opinion, is sharing a cubicle with a person (or persons) who works a different shift. Man, that sucks.
I’m fairly anal about my desk, you see, and want things to be in their proper places. But whenever I’ve shared a desk, the other person has always been a disgusting slob. ALWAYS.
Every day I would arrive to find papers strewn all around, the computer locked under someone else’s login, the stapler missing, the monitor ratcheted toward the roof like Manute Bol had been using it, toenail clippings in the keyboard, and (possibly) a placenta in the trash can.
And immediately, literally during the very first minute of the day, I’d find myself outraged and in a wanna-start-stabbin’ mood. Yes, that’s the worst situation of them all. Even worse than “no desk whatsoever.”
Right now I have a nice, new cubicle that I don’t have to share. Which is cool. Sure, I wish I had walls that went all the way to the ceiling, but it could be a whole hell of a lot worse. And I know this, because I’ve been there.
What about you? Tell us about your current workspace, and also your best and worst of all-time. As always, use the comments link below.
And I’ll give you guys a full-length update tomorrow, I hope, instead of another of these pocket posts, or whatever.
See ya then!
Any front desk job sux. It’s a cluster f*ck of salespeople, deliveries, office gossips who give you too many details about people you don’t know or give a crap about, and my favourite, the desperate mid-lifers hitting on me all…freakin’…day.
My best desk was a huge cubicle with a window and a sliding glass door to a balcony, where I had a heartbreaking view of San Francisco. A tall coffee and half a pack of smokes later, I still couldn’t break away and get back to work.
Best: My present office is a 3500 sq ft. woodshop where I design and build furniture and cabinetry that I couldn’t afford myself. But thankfully my clients can.
Worst: Art director for a restaurant chain. They turned off the power to a 5′ x 8′ cooler and told me that was my office. Complete with monster insulated door with massive latch. Condensation leaked in from the adjoining cooler, so the floor was always wet. Nice with the computer and associated electronics. They moved me to another restaurant with the main power room as my office. That was the end of the line for me.
I had a job where my “desk” changed regularly. Two days at facility 1, the next a facility 2, the next 2 with no actual desk but my vehicle plus the odd weekend in BFE. This necessitated taking my entire office with me as I traveled. That might have been ok but this was the pre-laptop computer era. I had to carry all my files and forms, pens, paper, general office supplies, specific work related gear and even a desk lamp, clock and hardline telephone. I had to stuff everything into a duffel bag and drag it to my various “offices”.
Got it down to a science though. I could set up my entire “office” in about 5 minutes after I got in the door.
I’ve worked many jobs…weatherman, auctioneer, nightclub owner, short order cook.
My office now is new and modern…but it’s an 8 hour then go home type of deal. No mementos of the family I have have living roughly 1300 feet from where I work.
Best “office” was at a weather station at Cape Romanzof, Alaska back in the 1980s. Sitting up on a bluff 400 feet over the Bering Sea, the only sign of life was a the small Native village of Hooper Bay 6 miles to the south, across the bay. Windows on three sides, the desk was olive drab green army issue, a manual pencil sharpener on the wall, and on the desk, an Olivetti Linea 98 manual typewriter, on which I composed several hundred love letters to my ex-wife…all of which she has saved, and still reads.
Worked many a midnight shift in that office, and being pre-internet days, had whiled away the time reading good, bad, and horrible books…while listening the radio…KNOM in Nome, Armed Forces Radio out of Anchorage, or Radio Australia on the shortwave receiver we bought. On the cold clear nights, we might be treated to a static filled hit from KOMO in Seattle, or most often, WLS in Chicago, or WWL in New Orleans.
Good times, long ago times, shitty office…but oh, what I would give to go back to it!
Amigos,
As it happens — as it was meant to happen, says Bokonon — I comment in the middle of the night: now, 0200 PT. It’s just my schedule, since I am continuing to recover from bigass back surgery and limpetigo, a condition that causes me to walk in circles without a cane. So if I comment on comments as much as on Jeff’s diary of discontent, it’s because of when I get to the site…I don’t exactly fancy myself the local Bennet Cerf or Dorothy Parker (or Bonnie Parker).
Damn, that was one large fucking disclaimer.
Reporters here are clever and frequently articulate, and the comments vanish in the morning like a fist when you open your hand. Some should be acknowledged before we move on.
So, my personal thanks to:
Jorge for
“even Satan thought my boss was a dick” AND “Then I had a cube where the walls were only about 3? high. It was more like a pen for a goat sized animal.”
Ian for
“I was a general dogsbody for 3 months in my early twenties”
AngryWhiteGuy for
” I had a balcony that I could go outside and sing “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina” if I wanted to. Mostly, I just went out there to smoke and overlook the decaying downtown.”
JCIII for
“The ad supply closet was the bathroom, which was nice. You could get what material you needed and take a shit at the same time.”
Mrs. Wally for
“If only there was a full wall between me and the evil person I call a boss. Or she was dead. It would be so much better.”
Tyrosine for
“I worked with a lot of hazardous chemicals and radio isotopes, so some poor kid stopping by for help ran the risk of touching the wrong thing and dying, or worse fucking up one of my experiments.”
Rusty for
“My best desk was a huge cubicle with a window and a sliding glass door to a balcony, where I had a heartbreaking view of San Francisco.”
.
Comments are disposable like used tampons in the ladies’ room, but these quick flights of genius lighten my night and brighten the language we share. Thanks again….jtb
I suppose I could be walking in circles because of OMG, but, sadly, the symptoms don”t match the disorder. I swear it used to come closer 40 years ago. I guess I could fit in a smaller cubicle now. The aging process is a cruel master.
AWG why would you like to store fries?????
I’m considering selling fries at my giant office counter . There are about 100 people working here. All I need is a Fry Daddy to put behind the counter. Then…..the hot dog cart.
On IPOD right now- “Sexy, Mexican Maid”- RHCP
I share an office with an attractive, fairly well mannered, young female. One end of my office is all glass with a nice view of Main street. We can see the weather as it happens and the only time the traffic bothers us is when the occasional fire truck goes zipping by. We have acces to our own restroom. We have our own coffee service and fridge, and big brother leaves our Internet alone, because I am big brother. The office is far away from customers and other employees. It is an awesome office. The office I had before this, I had a view of the filthy stock room. My fellow employees would come and sit around my desk when I wasn’t there and smoke and drop their ash on my chair mat and sometimes crush out their butts on it too. If the service department ran out of space to put their broken stuff they’d fill up mine with it. So yeah I know how awesome my office is because I’ve been there too.
When I worked as a dispatcher I shared an office with my boss. It was small and overlooked the parking garage. I had a chair with wheels on it so it was all good.
For all my volunteer work I used the dining room table. Talk about a pain in the ass. Every night I’d have to clean everything off it so we could sit and have dinner.
Now that I’m making purses and doing some alterations for people, I have my own workspace in the basement. I chucked out a ton of stuff that had made it’s way down there and now I have two work tables set up, along with my sewing machines and stuff. It’s great! I just need a computer and TV down there and I’d be in heaven.
@Jed…you do some beautiful work my friend. makes what I do look like a booger. I’m envious of your talent.
I work in an office with no windows, in a cubicle littered with band flyers, old photocopies and general insanity. It’s not too bad (except for the lack of natural sunlight) and I don’t spend all day in here.
Worst: a desk thrown in among rows of file cabinets, almost as an afterthought, no sunlight there either and I still had to wear a shirt and tie for some goddamned reason.
Now playing on iTunes: “Swing Shift” live version — The Lyres (how appropriate)
Tammie – do you sell your purses online?
my current cubicle is nearly barren except for a single framed photo of my son and a calender of tropical beaches. one nearby cube-mate, although we are polar-opposites politically speaking, we are surprisingly similar about a lot of other things. another cube-mate just last week thought I overheard her on the phone reveal something about her personal life (which I didn’t because I had my headphones on -HA!) so she confessed to me that she’d be lying to me and everyone else. It’s a whole big stupid soap opera of which I want no part, the lying bitch.
best office: corner office, a real room with a door and everything, the two outer walls were windows floor-to-ceiling, and I shared it with a very good friend. The job itself was peppered with crappy politics and stress, etc. and I was let go when the contract ended.
I once worked in a large, bunker-like building. No cubicles, just a large open plan for the employees while the boss sat in a cushy office. Everyone had their own desks, but mine happened to be situated next to the boss’ office. The wall separating him from the rabble had a window that was inches from my head and which he would periodically open to stick his head out and bark orders or whatever in my ear. It was like “Laugh-In”, but without the laughs.
Side story, we once had a dirty clown suddenly appear at our back door and ask to use our facilities. We declined, but someone did provide him with a light for his Marlboro.
jtb: Being chronically ill myself, I know it probably won’t help to tell you to “get well”. For perpetual conditions there’s only good days and bad days. So, I wish you many many many good days in a row.
Hey Jeff
Steve Forbert is touring in your neck of the woods over the next month. Might want to check it out.
The best reward for going to school non-stop until the age of 25 is having had a private office at every workplace I’ve inhabited. The first 25 years of gainful (and sometimes ungainly?) employ were spent self-employed at 4 different locations, always in a nice place with plenty of room and a view. Since I went in-house with a smallish software developer and became a “recovering attorney”, I’ve had to play the political game and not demand the same digs to which I’d become accustomed, but recently I moved into “my kinda place” with larger windows, enough room for a conference table, etc. All that really means is that I have more room for personal crap that I rescue from home, where it’s not always appreciated by TW.
The self-employed thing could really suck sometimes, while at other times it was very rewarding. It got 2 sons into and out of the house (successfully)…but I guess that’s a topic for a different day.
With the notion that “Comments are disposable like used tampons in the ladies’ room” running through my brain, I’ll now hit “Submit Comment”.
Tammie: What type of purses do you make? Anything in the style of antique/vintage?
Alice in WV and Bikerchick….I’m getting ready to start selling them online. And they range from vintage to homespun country to modern. I just want to build up an adequate stock before I start selling them. I posted pictures of one kind of the purses I’ve been making on my facebook.
Honestly I started out making them for gifts but the response to my pictures was so great, I decided to sell them.
If you’re on facebook check them out. If not, then email me and I’ll let you know when I start selling them. TheSwedishStitcher@gmail.com
(sorry Jeff for saying anything about this on here but they both asked about it and I didn’t know how else I could have replied to them)
Another off topic thing, and it sounds like a Twitter post (if I had a Twitter account), but I just heard Stairway to Heaven for the 4000th time in my life and I am ready to shoot myself on the head.
On IPOD right now-
“Falling to Pieces”- Faith No More
AWG – I saw Zeppelin in Charleston, WV about ’69 or so and since then that song on the radio just doesn’t get it.
and where’s my dam update?
Thanks for the kind words Chuck. I read your essay on “new” clothes last night and it is still bothering me. If there is “fecal material” on my clothes, i’d like it to be my own.
I have a question for Mr. Kay… what percentage, roughly, of these comments do you read? I read recently that Obama reads 10 letters a day, of the thousands that he receives. I immediately thought of the WVSR.
For all of you superstitious Surf Reporters…………I don’t believe in omens, but if I did, this might not be a good one……………………I leave my house to go to work this morning and looked up into a tree and there is a huge Turkey Buzzard staring at me. Kinda freaked me out. Anyone want to take a shot at what it means? I am thinking the buzzard was wanting some breakfast!
I thought those things flew south for the winter?
Jerry, be very careful for the next few days! And on another side note…when you see one of those buzzards run on the ground it will give you chills up and down your spine. One of the creepiest things I have ever seen.
Well, this is a fine kick in the Bitch Wrinkle !!
Ya think he choked on his Moe’s burger?
He wouldn’t try to steal the spotlight from JD Salinger would he?
Open cubical with semi privacy. The manager can see me but not my monitors. Also when the tards from the floor come in with their stupid questions they can’t see me right away.
Worst was probably St. Lou where they actually expected me to work 8 hrs a day.
I’m the slob Jeff would hate. Don’t share a cubicle or a pair of underwear with me.
A very appropriate site related to this topic:
http://mthruf.com/?ref=chz
WTH? where is my update?????
PS: as a pharmacist i’m supposed to be a people person—i’m not!
best job: working in a manufacturing lab, where i saw no one for days on end. just me, my machines and my orders. YEA!!!
Worst – A Lawfirm. I worked for a big (small town) law firm in the south suburbs of Chicago and man, this guy was a asshole. He was like a red faced, dandruff speckled walrus, who would yell at you in front of a lobby full of people if you simply didn’t hear him the first time. One time after typing up a letter by dictation (he would record tasks onto a small recorder), and I forgot to put the word ‘or’ into a sentence. So in front of a full lobby, he whipped the paper at me, made me pick it up when it landed on the floor, and told me how rediculous I was, followed by him shaking his head and going ‘pfffft.’
Another time he told me I could only go to the bathroom twice a day. Telling me, a grown woman, working in an office, that I was limited to two bathroom breaks a day. He thought I was going to the bathroom to ‘text’ when realstically, I just pee a lot because I drink a lot of water and such. I texted at my desk when need be, and not in the bathroom, thank you very much.
I put up with this wooly mammoth for almost 4 months before I finally couldn’t take it anymore and walked out one day. All the lawyers that worked there were rude and were always looking there noses down at me like I was a slave rather then an employee. Call me a baby, but I would cry in the bathroom every morning at that place. It was the most belittling, horrible, place I’ve ever worked, and I have worked A LOT of places. Red Lobster, Buffalo Wild Wings, 2 factorys (paper packing and candy packing), Cracker Barrel, Monicals Pizza (twice), An appliance store office clerk, McDonalds, Menards, TGIF’s, Beef ‘O Brady’s, Barnes and Nobles cafe, and JC Pennysin no particular order, and my current job, a consulting office for a carribean medical university (which I like very much, not love, but very much like)
Best Job-Buffalo Wild Wings. Anyone who has ever been in one knows that’s it just a fun place. Working there is no different. It was about a half hour away from my home town, so I made about 30 new friends, and worked my way up from a waitress to a trainer in about 6 months. It was great. I still miss that place. I was 19 though, it’s a good paying job when your still living with mom and dad, but not on your own.
Just get out of prison, Brit?