First, how did I end up getting the Presidential office? Am I the President of the company? Ha! Well, it so happened that around the beginning of the summer there were some changes in the leadership of the company and the president's office was left empty. Lets just leave it at that. At that time I had all sorts of equipment and target machines, and development machines, and blackboards, and whiteboards, and mice (optical ones), and I was barely able to fit in my 8'x8' cube. So, one of my co-workers and a friend suggested that I ask for the Presidential office with the pretext that I needed the space (which truly, I did need). But of course he meant it as a joke. To me however it made sense. The office was empty, and I needed the space.
I walked in one morning in early July to see one of the managers who deals with these kinds of requests and asked him very politely if I may have the office next to my cube which at the time lay empty. He said he would look into it, and we left it at that. Later that same day he walked by my cubicle and realized then, that the office next to my cubicle was the mildly large office with two equally large windows overlooking Richmond Street, just east of Church Street. He let out a chuckle and inquired again as to my need for the office. I, with a movement of my arm unveiled the inhumane mess in which I was trapped. He nodded and left. The day after I was allowed to move into the office. This is one thing I like about this company, if you make a request, and you can convince someone that it makes sense it will be made possible.
And in that office, of long windows reaching from the ceiling almost down to the floor, with Sun light splashing on the walls, and a view of the city's bums, prostitutes, prominent business men and hotdog vendors, I basked in the formidable space. But the most brilliant thing of all, was that that office, as opposed to my cubicle, had a door! A door! Oh that slab of wood, oh boundary of the blessed! Thou hath left me, for now I am back in a door less cubicle.
How did I end up back in a cubicle?
We moved office buildings.
Now, one individual who knew I spent a couple of months in that office came and asked me how does it feel to be back amongst "the peasants." Aside from the inaccuracy of the remark, it borders on offensive. I never attached any personal achievement or merit to that office, I was still reporting back to the same people. Just as I do now. But I loved the space. Now, I am back in a cube, which to be completely honest it's not too bad and when I am submerged in my work I kind of forget the world around me. But from time to time, when I look back, I miss looking at the bums and the prostitutes, down in the street.
I walked in one morning in early July to see one of the managers who deals with these kinds of requests and asked him very politely if I may have the office next to my cube which at the time lay empty. He said he would look into it, and we left it at that. Later that same day he walked by my cubicle and realized then, that the office next to my cubicle was the mildly large office with two equally large windows overlooking Richmond Street, just east of Church Street. He let out a chuckle and inquired again as to my need for the office. I, with a movement of my arm unveiled the inhumane mess in which I was trapped. He nodded and left. The day after I was allowed to move into the office. This is one thing I like about this company, if you make a request, and you can convince someone that it makes sense it will be made possible.
And in that office, of long windows reaching from the ceiling almost down to the floor, with Sun light splashing on the walls, and a view of the city's bums, prostitutes, prominent business men and hotdog vendors, I basked in the formidable space. But the most brilliant thing of all, was that that office, as opposed to my cubicle, had a door! A door! Oh that slab of wood, oh boundary of the blessed! Thou hath left me, for now I am back in a door less cubicle.
How did I end up back in a cubicle?
We moved office buildings.
Now, one individual who knew I spent a couple of months in that office came and asked me how does it feel to be back amongst "the peasants." Aside from the inaccuracy of the remark, it borders on offensive. I never attached any personal achievement or merit to that office, I was still reporting back to the same people. Just as I do now. But I loved the space. Now, I am back in a cube, which to be completely honest it's not too bad and when I am submerged in my work I kind of forget the world around me. But from time to time, when I look back, I miss looking at the bums and the prostitutes, down in the street.
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