Beauty of a Desk Job

Two weeks ago, the idea of returning to my former workplace was pleasant, inviting even. The first few days were satisfactory enough. I was welcomed back as if I had been on a long holiday, and the work made a refreshing change to revising for exams. Unfortunately certain menial tasks just become second-nature, and so getting back into the swing of things was quite simple. What I hadn't expected, was how I frustrating adjusting to my new surroundings would be. Previously, I had the most prestigious seat in the call centre,  I could Google to my heart's content, whereas now I occupy a more conspicuous position. The walls have ears, and apparently eyes and big mouths too. Add to that the fact that my computer's peripherals are bacteria factories, and any apparent benefits gleaned from returning to labour quickly diminish. For I’m meant to be quite content to sit most of the day doing not much at all, enjoying the visual sensation that is the contents of one and a half crisp packets emptied into my keyboard (Thank you, previous seat occupant). If I get bored trying to clean the crumbs, pieces of hair extension, and possibly faecal matter from between the keys; I can always glory in the chewed pen left partially digested by a former co-worker. Otherwise I shall, without intention just open and close my desk drawers multiple times waiting for Narnia to appear, or at least count ceiling tiles.

You may say, “Can’t you make conversation with your equally workless colleagues?”. Well. I like a natter as much as most others, possibly even more, unfortunately there is only so much fun one can have at work before one is hushed, scowled at, or reprimanded. True, we have our fair share of festivities and celebrations, but is it so much to ask that when there is nothing to do we could check our email? Instead I will have to be entertained by the noisy aircon/heating system which randomly turns itself off throughout the day, and can never quite ever decide whether it will be too hot or too cold. Failing that, there is the fax machine which decides to eat the orders. Else I could just revel in the mediocrity of sitting doing nothing, because..... there is nothing to do. When’s payday?