Working and Living Space
So I was offered a promotion today at work. Thoughts on that to come, but I stumbled on some thoughts while cogitating the possible promotion.
One of the least pleasent aspects of my current position is the cubicle. It's 4x2' and chairs are inevitably knocked any time someone needs to pass you. It's so bad that OSHA actually had to get involved at one point (a post for another time). For a job that deals with generating paperwork, it's counterproductive.
The cubes at the position I would be moving to, on the other hand, are pretty spacious. Unnecessarily spacious, actually. I'd have room for all of my paperwork and as many pet rocks as I desire. Maybe even a pet cow. And my mouth salivates at the prospect.
I've been talking a lot to the other two candidates about the pros and cons of the transfer. We also talked about medicine, diet, and computer games. We talk a lot at work. What we're doing doesn't require our whole concentration and... we're all packed so close together.
It reminds me a little of our old apartment complex. When my wife Clancy and I first moved out west, we stayed in this little spithole of an apartment. The rent was unbelievably cheap, but we were extraordinarily cramped and our neighbors a bunch of vagabonds and druggies.
But because we were so packed in, we got to know all of our neighbors despite an extremely high turnover rate. the lack of space inside encouraged us to spend a lot of time outside. The lack of space outside meant that we were spending that outside time together. I knew more neighbors from that apartment complex than I had known from any prior. I got to know people I never would have thought to talk to otherwise.
Being tightwads, we figured that we would be able to take it as it came, but we weren't. Now we live in a basement apartment in the sleepy suburbs to our sleepy bedroom town. We've got a lot of room and unlike at the aforementioned complex, we feel safe there. At the same time, we both lament that we haven't made any friends out here.
In the past I've lamented not making friends at work. While I don't know if I'd call my current coworkers "friends," it's close enough. We talk on a daily basis. I know them all pretty well and they know me pretty well. It's enough that my introverted soul is usually happy to find the quiet solace of home once I get there.
But I move, everything changes. I'm sure I'll be on friendly enough terms with my new coworkers. But I won't have as much reason to talk to them. In fact, the only reason I'll have to talk to a lot of people (including the people I currently work with) is to tell them that they've done something wrong. But a lot of it is just that we won't be sardines in a can.
I like my space, both literal and figurative. One of the many ways that my wife and I get along is that we're both that way. But one of the reasons that we're so isolated, despite religious differences and her demanding job, is because we don't go out and seek people. As miserable as our current cubes are at work - and as rough as the old apartment was - it forced us not to isolate ourselves.
Even though we're both particularly introverted, even our extroverted society is affected. Many people start off in apartments and get houses. One of the reasons they get houses is because it gives them (and their kids) more space, both inside and outside. The larger the house, the larger the yard, the better. I guess the person that dies living in a house furthest from his nearest neighbor wins.
The same is true at work. Only pitiful underlings get the kind of cubes that we deal with. Work hard enough and you get a bigger cube, and less contact. Work harder still and you get an office with a door that you can close to the outside world.
One of the least pleasent aspects of my current position is the cubicle. It's 4x2' and chairs are inevitably knocked any time someone needs to pass you. It's so bad that OSHA actually had to get involved at one point (a post for another time). For a job that deals with generating paperwork, it's counterproductive.
The cubes at the position I would be moving to, on the other hand, are pretty spacious. Unnecessarily spacious, actually. I'd have room for all of my paperwork and as many pet rocks as I desire. Maybe even a pet cow. And my mouth salivates at the prospect.
I've been talking a lot to the other two candidates about the pros and cons of the transfer. We also talked about medicine, diet, and computer games. We talk a lot at work. What we're doing doesn't require our whole concentration and... we're all packed so close together.
It reminds me a little of our old apartment complex. When my wife Clancy and I first moved out west, we stayed in this little spithole of an apartment. The rent was unbelievably cheap, but we were extraordinarily cramped and our neighbors a bunch of vagabonds and druggies.
But because we were so packed in, we got to know all of our neighbors despite an extremely high turnover rate. the lack of space inside encouraged us to spend a lot of time outside. The lack of space outside meant that we were spending that outside time together. I knew more neighbors from that apartment complex than I had known from any prior. I got to know people I never would have thought to talk to otherwise.
Being tightwads, we figured that we would be able to take it as it came, but we weren't. Now we live in a basement apartment in the sleepy suburbs to our sleepy bedroom town. We've got a lot of room and unlike at the aforementioned complex, we feel safe there. At the same time, we both lament that we haven't made any friends out here.
In the past I've lamented not making friends at work. While I don't know if I'd call my current coworkers "friends," it's close enough. We talk on a daily basis. I know them all pretty well and they know me pretty well. It's enough that my introverted soul is usually happy to find the quiet solace of home once I get there.
But I move, everything changes. I'm sure I'll be on friendly enough terms with my new coworkers. But I won't have as much reason to talk to them. In fact, the only reason I'll have to talk to a lot of people (including the people I currently work with) is to tell them that they've done something wrong. But a lot of it is just that we won't be sardines in a can.
I like my space, both literal and figurative. One of the many ways that my wife and I get along is that we're both that way. But one of the reasons that we're so isolated, despite religious differences and her demanding job, is because we don't go out and seek people. As miserable as our current cubes are at work - and as rough as the old apartment was - it forced us not to isolate ourselves.
Even though we're both particularly introverted, even our extroverted society is affected. Many people start off in apartments and get houses. One of the reasons they get houses is because it gives them (and their kids) more space, both inside and outside. The larger the house, the larger the yard, the better. I guess the person that dies living in a house furthest from his nearest neighbor wins.
The same is true at work. Only pitiful underlings get the kind of cubes that we deal with. Work hard enough and you get a bigger cube, and less contact. Work harder still and you get an office with a door that you can close to the outside world.
posted by trumwill at 6:23 PM
1 Comments:
I think Clancy and I have reached the point of introversion to a fault. But between cultural differences and our busy schedules, we have all the reason in the world not to go out and meet people and have realized that our social lives have suffered as a result.
As far as work and I go, I didn't end up taking/getting the promotion. I did move to a new cubicle that's farther away from the hallway.
We actually have mandatory breaks at this job. It's inconvenient, but I think it's oddly good for morale as it helps get us to spend more time together.
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