For some reason, the building’s maintenance has decided that the central air system should be turned on today. At this very moment, I am huddled tightly around my desk hoping the warmth of a tiny heater, stolen from a co-worker, will stop my fingers from falling off.
The problem is my office has two gigantic vents in the ceiling. Obviously, my office was not originally an office. These vents have been a bane to me since I moved into the bunker. The second week I was here, I walked into my office to find a pool of dirty water on the right hand arm of my desk. In an unfortunate decision, I had placed my In-box on this area, which also happens to be directly below one of the huge vents.
I called maintenance and they assured me this accident would never happen again. Three weeks later another rain shower happened. This time, it wasn’t water but debris from construction directly above me. I could hear shards of rubble bouncing off the metal grates. I looked up to see a distinct buckle on several of the suspended ceiling panels between the two vents.
Again, I called maintenance who assured me this accident would never happen again. They also agreed to replace the panels overnight.
Since then, the construction over my office has stopped and moved over to my colleague’s office. Occasionally, I’ll hear an expletive from her. We’ve all been there, Sue.
The collection of dust that has created a hideous film over the vents has irked me for some time. I’ve asked maintenance to clean them several times. They are still dirty. Lord knows what allergies I’m going to get from these dust mites.
As we head into central air season, I’d really like these things cleaned before they kick up the ventilation.
Typing has slightly warmed my digits a bit. I’m ready to dip my fingers into my tea.
Ok, the orange flip flop chick just walked past my office wearing a pair of gold sequin flats. To be truthful, they would be cute with a pair of long jeans and a Mid-East print top. However, they don’t work well in the workplace. Eh, she’s young. I suppose when I was younger I wore some un-appropriate items to work. There was the time, I wore a black tailed jacket for 3 months. I was going through a dark goth phase. Then there was the time, I showed up with braids all over my head in protest for being forced to come in on an unpaid Saturday to do paperwork catch up.
My husband’s office attire consists of a pair of jeans and a button down shirt. I miss my days in IS. Even though we needed to wear a suit for client meetings, we were allowed jeans on non-meeting days. The director figured, might as well allow us as much comfort as possible. We were working at least 10 hours a day.
Now, the most casual I get is a pair of slacks and a cardigan. I’m not sure what the rule is on opened toe shoes yet but I’ve got 12 pairs in my closet desperately wanting to come out and play. I’d take the cue of my boss but I don’t believe I’m old enough to shop at Talbot’s.