I am composing this post at work. Today is extra-slow, because two of my three editors are out of the office, and the final one is busy preparing for the sales meeting. Of course, I completed already all the tasks I set for myself for today, and now I find myself with nothing left to do. It is 11:30. I have 5 ½ hours left to fill. I have been promised that, after next week, things will pick up again. I can only hope so.
It wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t afraid of getting caught not working. I could search for apartments, or shop online or plan make-believe trips. But I reside in a cubicle that is central to pretty much everything: right by the bathrooms, water fountain and door leading to the elevators. There are no other cubicles next to me to buffer. I am alone, with nothing but busy hallways all around my cubicle. If I knew more people, this would be nice, because I could say to them as they walk past. But I don’t know a lot of people, so this just means I live in fear that someone will walk by and see Gmail up on my screen and they will know I’m not working. Plus, my back is to the door, so my bosses can pop in and stand there for minutes if they feel like it, and I will never know. This is dangerous for Craigslist searching or Oldnavy.com surfing. Even writing this post is risky. I generally don’t mind a little risk, but not at work. Especially when I have only been at work for 2 weeks.
I am holding on to hope that the remaining editor, M, will let me leave early. I seriously doubt this will occur, but it would be such a nice break from the tedium of the past 3 days.
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