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January 17, 2006
Office Space
I think I mentioned a while back that I had acquired some office space. I did this so I could a). Get the hell out of the house and act like normal working people do and b). I could spark some sort of creative drive so I could keep doing what I was doing cuz I was getting fuckin' bored.
After about 4 months of making no progress, I decided to finally move (thanks to Suitcase Sally, the Swan, the wife and myself) to my office space.
I have rented a room in an office building. How fucking depressing is a real office building. I realize most of you do this everyday and god bless you. Flourescent lights and light blue painted walls? I am in "Working Girl" only no one is getting me coffee. And where the fuck is Harrison Ford? Every guy here looks like Dorothy's ex-husband, Stan, from the Golden Girls.
Luckily, I got to paint my office and I use 2 lamps to avoid the hell that is called flourescent lighting. It looks good now. It's quaint and earthy. And it serves its purpose. I don't have to interact with anyone; I'm just the weird new guy down the hall with his door always shut (and who doesn't shave all that much).
Poughkeepsie Girl also works down the hall renting much bigger space so that makes me happy as well (except when she bangs on my door to tell me that Angelina is pregnant with Brad Pitt's baby). Thanks, but I don't really care. Just get me some coffee. Cream and sweet 'n low. Or Splenda if they don't have the pink stuff.
Remember that chick, Daria, from that old MTV show? I think I found her. She's the receptionist at this place. She acts like Debbie Downer. She's one of those people when you ask how they are doing they say, "Uggghhhhh. Things could be better." I always walk away and say, "Well have a great day!"
Anyway, I walk to my little space each morning. As I do, I pass by a group of Hispanic men who congregate in front of a paint store to do work for anyone who wants them. It is a very sad sight. When a vehicle pulls up, they all run like crazy to get the job. I wish I was this excited to work. I mean, they freak out when potential work comes their way. Could you imagine bubbling in your panties just to make a fax for someone? Certainly not Daria.
Life is weird.
Posted by durban bud at January 17, 2006 05:56 PM
Comments
Oh honey I feel the same way... these people who live for their jobs and let work define them... they wear me out and make me tired!
I wish we were like Europe - yes the middle class works more than the 37 hour mandatory workweek but they only do as much as they have to... here people think you are some degenerate if you only worked 9 hours today - whatever happened to 9 - 5?!
Posted by: TOS at January 20, 2006 10:57 AM
it could be worse, your only light could come from the computer monitor and you could be trapped in a vault underground with a door of steel 3 feet thick--of course, i have a coffee wench. speaking of which--'coffee wench!! more coffee!!! ahora!!'
Posted by: jeremy at January 20, 2006 03:01 PM
Adulthood sucks.
Posted by: John at January 22, 2006 02:46 PM
That paint store wouldn't happen to be at 15th and P by chance, would it? I see the same thing happen there whenever I walk to work.
Posted by: Chip at January 24, 2006 09:54 AM
You always reminded me a lot of Daria! maybe it was acerbic wit!
Editor's note: I meant she looks like Daria and acts like Debbie Downer. Daria is very witty! ;-)
Posted by: Matt in LA at January 24, 2006 05:45 PM