Sharing an Office

One of the reasons I have been absent from these pages, Gentle Readers, is because I have changed jobs this year.

I know, it seems almost impossible to believe that the simple act of changing jobs could cause me to forget how to type and post for nearly four months. And yet, that is what happened. I simply forgot how to use this blog….*clears throat, shuffles papers* moving on!

This change of job was much needed, having grown tired, weary and disillusioned with the job that, a little over a year ago, I loved very much. There are reasons for this, and I am sure I will share them with you in time. Just imagine me being a battle-weary James Bond type character, sitting in the dark, nursing a couple of serious flesh wounds, drinking whiskey and smoking cigarettes, and you’ll have an idea of how I was starting each day at work. I mean…COPING with each day at work. Ahem.

So, I left my old job, and I started a new one! In Finance, of all things. Being such a wordy person, I never thought numbers would be my bread and butter, but I’m quite enjoying it. I also no longer have a small, private cupboard to call my own, but share an office with five other people….plus the two through the first connecting door, and the six through the second connecting door…. fourteen of us sit in the finance teams, and it is exactly as noisy as you would expect.

Surprisingly, I love it. I, Loops&Flicks, who prefers solitude in all things, find myself loving the noise of a shared office. The companionship. I suppose after three years in the cupboard in the attic at my last job (not a joke, genuinely, cupboard, attic, me) I find the company supportive and encouraging. It always helps to know you’re not alone in this, I suppose.

There are some downsides to sharing an office, though. And the main one, I’ve found, is that you can no longer fart whenever you need to.

It’s very distressing, to know that your bowels are grumbling, compacting and condensing the gas that digestion produces, and to know that you have two choices.

Choice ONE: let out the fart, without knowing if it will be silent or noisy, stinky or unscented, a quick ‘brrrp’ or a lengthy series of chirrups out of your bot-bot.

Choice TWO: make a quick exit, a shuffling butt-clenched waddle to the door, and then down the corridor to the toilets, to fart in the privacy of a toilet stall.

Now, obviously, it has to be choice two, at all times. Which means, in the four months I’ve worked there, I’ve got cramp in my buttock at least once a day, from clenching and waddling at the same time.

I never thought I’d miss the day I could let out a ripping good fart during office hours. But there we go, people, you just don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.

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