Some of you may be wondering how the new job's going.
Two days so far. And I feel like a giant in Tiny Town. I'm physically too big for the space. The cubicle aisles are so narrow, two people can't walk down them shoulder-to-shoulder at the same time.
Desk space? We share a cube. Two desks, our computers facing their respective corners, and we have a table in between us to define our personal space. That's not a lot of definition.
There will be no butt-scratching, no bra-wire adjusting, no phone calls to loved ones without the inclusion of my team mate.
Poor her. Because she doesn't know just yet that I'm not one to let a little lack of privacy stop me from doing what needs did, scratching what needs scratched, adjusting what needs adjusted. Oh nosirree.
We may have to marry after six months because of our forced intimacy. Some levels of it might even be against the law in Utah. Or encouraged. I'm never sure about Utah's laws of morality, because they don't endorse alcohol or gay rights, but they do like a man having a lot of wives, which seems like that would go hand-in-hand with a lot of alcohol and even some gay activities, if you were doing that whole thing properly and making full use of everyone's talents.
But I sidetrack.
Back to Tiny Town.
They have this engraved plaque in the ladies restroom:
We're schooled in proper hand washing and paper towel usage. Really.
I have one question that begs an answer. If all ladies are washing their hands for 20 seconds in warm water, rinsing well, turning off their faucet with their paper towel, what in Garth's name sort of germs could make it onto the door handle that we should be so wrapped in protection upon opening the door?? What? I"m asking. Because I really don't get that whole process.
Are our poop and pee germs from the toilet able to fizz up into bubbles, float out of the stalls, sail across the room and land on the door handles, spreading fecal matters to whomever so dares to touch without a paper barrier??
Because that is some pretty powerful stuff and maybe each toilet should be encased in a plastic bubble to prevent contamination.
Another thing about the restrooms in Tiny Town. The size. I have to turn sideways and adapt a Twister-type configuration to exit the toilet, and the door still knocks into my boobs.
And believe you me (what does that mean?? how is that even a correct phrase?? maybe it's not and i'm high on crack), I am not the largest gal in Tiny Town. I'm downright average, if not on the smaller size.
One nice feature (so it's not all complainy and blah), they provide a nice array of ladies necessities in the restrooms, free of charge. I like a complimentary tampon. It tells me how nice my vagina is...oh wait, I meant a complementary tampon. I like those, too.
Tiny Town's office furniture makes the furnishings from The Card Mines state-of-the-art. Seriously. We are equipped to do our jobs with the least amount of modern trimmings possible. I hesitated to sit in some of the conference room chairs. The temporary computer they hooked me up with? I've put better on the tree lawn.
Everything is just a little.... a little..... below standard. There. That's it. Just not quite average.
However. I am excited about my actual work. The work promises to be pretty great. And maybe I really will emerge as a Giant in Tiny Town.
If I can just make it in to work on time. Because getting there? Is more than half the battle. Traffic. I was ready to quit before I started, sitting for over an hour in traffic to travel 25 miles.
Ever resourceful, I've dug up an alternate route and am going to give that a shot next time.
Lastly? On my 2nd day there, we had a corporate-wide meeting - we all stood outside on the patio, we are a rather smallish company, apparently - and they announced that we've been sold.
I'm hoping that the new owners want to relocate to the west side. I know a building that will be available in a couple of years (when The Card Mines relocates!). Which would be poetic, that I end up from where I came.