Does your new cubicle make you a square? LOL
Humpf. Funny, Marmite. I am getting used to my round body in my not-quite square box , and yes, I probably could be defined as a square. Haven't heard that term/slang in years. When my son came home from being in the Army for four years, he kept saying he would get something "squared away." The two terms for square meaning entirely different things, and having nothing to do with the Dilbert quality of my berth.
Well, I have made the initial move. I have taken the attitude of "simplify, simplify, simplify." Most of my personal possessions went home in five banker's boxes, including extra shoes, heating pad for my poor ailing back from all the packing and unpacking and filing and re-filing, my clock radio because it just doesn't fit anywhere logically unless I hang it by its chord from the ceiling, my fru-fru frivolous stuff that had nothing to do with secretarial work, cups and mugs that I have received over the last ten years. All my software books for Word 97, Word 2003, Excel 97, Excel 2003, and training manuals for each got trashed along with files that I had in my desk for "tips for working with your boss" older than two months because bosses change their habits at a whim and firms change your boss at an even faster pace.
I am "stuffed" into my rectangular, not square, box that is claustrophobic at best. I have been listening to two co-workers talk talk talk, who I really liked, before today, and now find extremely annoying with chit-chat, hogging the printer, mumbling under their breath, and generally invading the space I lost when I moved to this cramped cubicle.
I have concluded that it is wisest to have as little personal items as possible so that if I get totally disgusted with the whole situation, or my retirement age miraculously moves down a couple years, I can sweep my hands across the top shelf and toss everything in a box, grab my purse, and my exit check, run laughing all the way to the bank, and never worry about small dark places again. Ever.
Here's a tour of the top shelf: two plants (they can go into the garbage at a moment's notice); four rubber duckies – one a red hat duckie, one a dentist duckie to encourage me to keep on keeping on with my dental care, and a bride and groom duckie set from my son's wedding – they fit in my purse; a little glass kitty since I can't have a living one at this stage in my life (also fits in my purse); and a third plant (a "lucky" bamboo that I am thinking about tossing right now because it's NOT WORKING), and awaaaaayyyy I go.
So, I am spending much of my time praying for the social security gods to take pity on me and lower the age of retirement to 60 – I just have eight months to go. Woo Hoo.