Dreary from my new desk, but closer to air, free and flowing just outside the window.
There has been, apparently, a fit of jealousy about my desk. Everyone wants a window so that they too can be closer to the outside. It’s more than that for me, though; sometimes I like it because it reminds me that I don’t mind being in here so much at all.
The days alternate between long and longer, though I find that I don’t mind. Yes, increased hours actually decrease my wage, and yes, the corporate world is taking advantage of me in my impressionable youth, but I like it. I love arguing over point sizes at eleven thirty at night, and I love electronically reviewing materials for a meeting at seven forty-five while still in my towel.
I’m sure the novelty of it will wear off eventually. My Director speaks about time in broad strokes, painting a month here, a couple of years there. Every day the same, in it’s way, but each with a unique challenge.
On Monday, our new interns started. One of them has been ostensibly paired with me, I think to feel out my ability to delegate. I think I do a decent job, but the dichotomy between my spindly guffawing twentysomething self and my seemingly emotionless communications automaton mode might be a little too unnerving.
I wouldn’t want to do this forever, but it is a terrific fire to forge a more steely me.