There's a nasty little Corporate undercurrent to the place that I'm allergic to. It doesn't pop up often enough to make me actively freak out, but it's there enough to make me wary if a certain turn of phrase gets turned by people in my vicinity, the thing that sounds plastic, and not either a social soul-hiding or speaking from the heart. Some days, I know I sound plastic there. I can't make such an effort to do my job well that I forget to be human, and it's a tough little balancing act. That's why I've been knocking my ass out, lately, making specific efforts for specific people. I don't care about Massed Humanity. I care about friends.
On the flip side, I've grown a little jaded of phone goonish type people assuming a personal relationship with me because I remember their name and smile. It takes a little more than that these days, and when I get mobbed at the end of the day, that doesn't go over well at all with anyone. I sit at a desk, I keep track of who is here and who is not, I shuffle spreadsheets. I do not have access to the attendance system. I do not know your schedule, or your attendance points. Well, I might know your attendance points today if I've been given the discreet warning that if anyone on this little list comes in late, they do not pass go and head straight to the office to discuss the issue, but in general, no. Us having interacted in the line of me doing my duties and me being polite and courteous does not give us any sort of relationship other than co-workers. If I've worked with someone for a good long time, there's far more of a chance of a relationship more cordial than professionalism evolving. If I hit it off with somebody in the first little bit (like with lasermom, ferretfont, trystan_laryssa, and dustraven), of course that's different. If I'm flagging you down to show you the latest cartoon, we're a little more than professional.
I've been living here almost five years, and I just now visited the Big Burrito to investigate their potential in the dinner-outsource department. They are worthy!
I can stay up as late as I want, tonight. I curled up in bed finishing re-reading The Hallowed Hunt, which will be a comfort-book in years to come, but isn't as vital to the core of me as it seemed on the first reading.
Obso1337 Supervisor brought in doughnuts today! His wife works in a bakery, which means that she often enough winds up with industrial-size boxes of not-quite-so-fresh doughnuts. Obso1337 Super generally takes them to their church, but every now and again he brings them to work. Today was one of those days. There was happiness.
I think a large part of Tuesday's problems was not enough chocolate, and not dispersed quite liberally enough. Pink Shirt Guy should have gotten some too. Yesterday's threat of throat-slitting was repeated; later, I made a bad pun about a stabbing death by office supplies (it was tacky).
Pink Shirt Guy is a Slytherin, I think. He's too subtle to be a Gryffindor, and only Slyths and Gryffs have that level of "Only if it doesn't dreadfully inconvenience me" over the rules. And he prefers to sit back and let things manage themselves with a few diplomatic words and only take action if things can't be avoided. It's borderline as far as the Hat's concerned, but the fact that he doesn't go off on harebrained crusades says to me that he's Slytherin, along with the little subtle things.
Two days off, and then the weekend mornings. I wonder if the other girl and I can juggle schedules well for the upcoming? And will the Senior Check-In be in the office forever?