… but a stateÂ of being.
Yesterday (7/1) I worked 16 hours. All told, my work week (starting on Monday) was 60 hours long. Amazing. I haven’t done this ot myself since I was in college and combining part-time work with an over-full class schedule.
My company moved from our quaint, but expensive and poorly designed office space inside a semi-converted house in a sweet neighborhood to a ‘regular’ office space on the fringes of downtown. We now have private offices and cubicles, as well as a real kitchen (seating for more than 12!), a library (which may actually get organized, now) and an environment where we all can see one another, daily.
I have to say, I’m pretty convinced that I’m going to get crap about the new space. The people I work with (and have ‘gone to bat for’ on numerous occasions) don’t think well of me. They are fools, as I am generous with those I manage and am always looking for a way to promote people into better places. Amusingly, they think the grass is greener elsewhere, but won’t just leave to find out. I’m going to get shit for having an office, and a corner one at that (although I didn’t choose it, but the Founder asked to switch with me and I said yes). I say: put in 15+ years of excellent, focused work in one area of expertise and then tell me I don’t deserve an office. In the end: I’m not sure how much longer I want to stay, even if the benefits are great and the pay is very good.
The sad part: I have to be at work on Monday, a day when everyone else in the company has off because I committed to making the common areas fully functioning for them. Will I get thanks? Maybe. The IT lady will be with me, because she’s a trouper and ‘gets’ the need for a functioning office when we start up again. One other person in the company offered to help with the move.
Oh my, I’m grumpy about this.