You know how I have the acronym RTBT for Reasons To Be Thankful? (And there are always many RTBT.) Well it occurs to me that every now and then (or lately, more often than that) I have gotten supremely cranky, and who better to be the archetype of crankiness than my beloved Marvin The Martian? (BTW, all crankfest posting will henceforth be tagged with MTM.)
I was so fond of his antisocial tendencies that one of my exes once bought me a MTM pillow which I still have. And considering my mom, I come by my crankiness the old-fashioned way: both nature AND nurture!
The current upheaval at work is just stoking the crank-o-meter with premium unleaded: we are moving offices to a building a few blocks away on Friday and boy oh boy has the process been fun (you know, like a root canal). Welcome to our entry area this morning, once they started dissambling the bookshelves (and check out the toolboxfilled with noisy power tools, heh):
We are moving to a place where we do not know how many cabinets or drawers each person will have (we have been wheedling the nice guy from the moving company to tell us how big each filing cabinet drawer is, since he's seen it but we haven't, not even our boss), and to a floor where the library (our vastly reduced reference collection) will be located on the other side of the floor from the librarians (oh yeah, that would be US).
If you picture the entire floor as a square clock, we are at 5:00 and the stacks are at 12:00. So we will be traipsing through another department's cubicles each and every time we need to get a book. (Yes, I know -- time to break out my pedometer and see how many WW activity points I can rack up every day.)
If this all doesn't sounds like much to be all MTM about, consider that there are many things I am NOT posting here out of discretion (what little I apparently still possess), but here's on factor for ya: on a floor of almost 90 people, there are 4 ladies room stalls. Yep, a whole whopping FOUR.
According to the American Restroom Association (yes, there really is such an organization; no, I'm not making this up), there are designated ratios based on occupancy for such facilities (we're not even going to get into gender disparities here, people) and they are remarkably chintzy.
So on this particular topic, I leave you all with this thought: I drink 8 - 10 glasses of water / beverages a day.
But also, all of the moving will have an unfortunate ripple effect on our support staff: the security guards, cleaning staff, newsstand operator in the lobby, etc. None of them know if they will be transferred over, and some of them already know they will be unemployed at the end of the year, when the current building is completely emptied. When you see people every day for 6 years, saying hello/goodnight with a smile, you do wind up worrying about them, especially since they are all uniformly pleasant and friendly.
So RTBT: they are keeping us and we will remain employed (with good health coverage -- YOWSA!)
And on unrelated but droolworthy note, I leave you with French pastry p*rn (hazelnut and coconut macaroons, French butter cookies, and chocolate-covered almonds, oh my!) each of which is bigger than my palm. They're from the Financier Patisserie mini-chain scattered throughout downtown.
Also, I have been requested by my relatives to no longer post photos of their superadorable offspring here. So while I may rave about their fabulous cuteness, I will no longer be able to put my memory card where my mouth is.
I was so fond of his antisocial tendencies that one of my exes once bought me a MTM pillow which I still have. And considering my mom, I come by my crankiness the old-fashioned way: both nature AND nurture!
The current upheaval at work is just stoking the crank-o-meter with premium unleaded: we are moving offices to a building a few blocks away on Friday and boy oh boy has the process been fun (you know, like a root canal). Welcome to our entry area this morning, once they started dissambling the bookshelves (and check out the toolboxfilled with noisy power tools, heh):
We are moving to a place where we do not know how many cabinets or drawers each person will have (we have been wheedling the nice guy from the moving company to tell us how big each filing cabinet drawer is, since he's seen it but we haven't, not even our boss), and to a floor where the library (our vastly reduced reference collection) will be located on the other side of the floor from the librarians (oh yeah, that would be US).
If you picture the entire floor as a square clock, we are at 5:00 and the stacks are at 12:00. So we will be traipsing through another department's cubicles each and every time we need to get a book. (Yes, I know -- time to break out my pedometer and see how many WW activity points I can rack up every day.)
If this all doesn't sounds like much to be all MTM about, consider that there are many things I am NOT posting here out of discretion (what little I apparently still possess), but here's on factor for ya: on a floor of almost 90 people, there are 4 ladies room stalls. Yep, a whole whopping FOUR.
According to the American Restroom Association (yes, there really is such an organization; no, I'm not making this up), there are designated ratios based on occupancy for such facilities (we're not even going to get into gender disparities here, people) and they are remarkably chintzy.
So on this particular topic, I leave you all with this thought: I drink 8 - 10 glasses of water / beverages a day.
But also, all of the moving will have an unfortunate ripple effect on our support staff: the security guards, cleaning staff, newsstand operator in the lobby, etc. None of them know if they will be transferred over, and some of them already know they will be unemployed at the end of the year, when the current building is completely emptied. When you see people every day for 6 years, saying hello/goodnight with a smile, you do wind up worrying about them, especially since they are all uniformly pleasant and friendly.
So RTBT: they are keeping us and we will remain employed (with good health coverage -- YOWSA!)
Also, I have been requested by my relatives to no longer post photos of their superadorable offspring here. So while I may rave about their fabulous cuteness, I will no longer be able to put my memory card where my mouth is.
No comments:
Post a Comment