So, it was a bizarre week when a co-worker, who is also a roller-derby girl, came to my cube to talk shop and farted in my cube-silent but deadly. I let it go- I’m a southern woman, and not only do we not do that, we don’t acknowledge ladies that do. We do however talk about them behind their back in public forums like the internet. Like I explained to Chris, I believe this to have been a power play in the same way that some animals spray a musk to mark territory, but to tell you the truth, I’m baffled.

Then came the lady with the boxes and the stickers telling me that I had to move. When I asked where? she bluntly said that she didn’t know and that I should ask my manager. I have one of those managers that you know doesn’t know…so I searched through my inbox to find a clue. The space that I’d requested for 2 new contractors, pushed me out into the cold. I was to share a cube with the dwarf with the belching problems, kharmic debt for all my little people curiosity. Sure, I had co-workers that rallied behind be in my defense. My manager even chuckled when he heard, and then followed that with- it’s just happening too quickly for me to do anything about it. I went commando and took another place where I’ve been hiding from Corporate Real Estate and everyone else ever since.

My biggest confession however, comes from a Friday afternoon incident. My circuit was down. I had placed calls to the highest heights and the updates to come at any moment. I don’t know what was passing through my mind when I stuffed my cell phone into my back pocket and headed to the bathroom. In mid-grunt, the phone rang. I grabbed the toilet paper, whipped quickly and answered the phone. Then I just walked away. Left things afloat. The guilt lingers too.