I’ve quit my job and given my four weeks notice.
Two weeks down and two to go.
A co-worker has claimed “dibs” on my office. She is as anxious to move in as I am to move out. I have the best office in the building. It’s big and roomy with a floor to ceiling picture window overlooking a garden of Stella D’Oro Daylilies and Knock-Out Roses that surround what we lovingly refer to as “the naked lady statue.” Another wall of windows overlooks the reception area. The drawback is that because it is directly behind the reception area there is constant chatter and commotion outside the door. The co-worker is well aware of this and is willing to accept the drawback in order to gain the luxury. I’m happy to make way for her.
As I look around, I realize just how much personal “stuff” my office has accumulated over 12 years.
I’m going to need to some boxes.
My 3×4 bulletin board is pinned with postcards of my travels, photos of my family, interesting quotes and funny photos….. Heck, even the bulletin board is mine really. I bought it myself when I took the job. I have no use for a giant bulletin board. It will stay. Another of many donations.
The books are mostly mine too. A lot of “How to” manuals. “Learn Excel,” “Learn Access,” “Learn the Creative Cloud.” Those I could use. But so could the employees here. Do I take them or leave them? And what about the giant dictionary of cooking terms entrusted to me by my old boss before she retired? You wouldn’t think a cooking dictionary would be important to an arts center but it’s bailed me out numerous times when writing descriptions for fancy fundraising dinners. It has to be entrusted to someone. But to whom? Hmmm… Leave them all on the shelf and decide later.
The pictures on the wall are mine. “Flaming June” and “Hellelil and Hildebrande” will be going home with me. I’ve already asked the art director to replace them with something from the Arts Center’s permanent art collection.
The paper punch is mine. The calculator, mine. The stapler is theirs.
Scissors, rulers, bookends. Colored file folders. fan, light-up disco ball. Theirs, theirs, theirs. Mine, mine, mine.
There is peanut butter, a can of tomato soup, instant oatmeal, and canned cheese in my bottom desk drawer. In the drawer above it is a pair of socks, three pair of reading glasses, and aspirin.
The bloody cows head that sits on my office shelf? Definitely NOT mine. Yes, that’s right. A bloody cow’s head. From “Bat Boy the Musical.” I have no idea how my office became its home. I do remember that it came here as some kind of a joke. I’ll leave it right where it is. My gift for the new office tenant.
Home at the WhackyShack 