I miss my coworkers

After just about 12 years of working for myself, today I just really, really, really wished I could walk over to someone else’s desk, bitch about a client, and get an “amen sister” and a pat on the back. Just like the good ol’ days.

When I realized there was no one to walk over to, or really even to call or e-mail, I felt sad. Sure, I have a few colleague/buddies (and a husband) who would be happy to hear me out, talk me down from the ledge, and make me feel better. But today, it just didn’t feel the same as walking over to a desk (or pulling someone into the ladies room) to vent “in the moment” with someone “working for the man,”¬† the same man, as me.

That’s all I needed…just to vent. Ten minutes of laying out in detail just why this particular situation is so ridiculous. Something like this… So, 3 weeks later, I finally hear out of the blue¬† — surprise, surprise — the brochure outline I knew would be useless because outlines are always useless because people don’t understand them because, well, they’re only outlines and not fully written brochures, is, in fact, quite useless, so NOW why don’t I get started writing that brochure? Like I would have done 3 WEEKS AGO if not for this foolish outline exercise. So now I have to get my head around all this information AGAIN, and try to make it all make sense. Oh, and don’t make me lead 3 meetings with your client and then decide you don’t need me in the meeting where you go over the outline with them. Oh, and could you get a clue how to communicate because you made it sound like the outline was AWFUL, when in fact, you just wanted to add another topic and switch a couple things around? And, oh, by the way, I’m tired of being a grown-up and a hack for hire and would just like to make this recipe for Starbucks Pumpkin Scones that I have on my desk in front of me and never have to worry about getting paid for writing another word.

So there you have it. The 10-minute rant I would have shared with D or J or C or T or R or L or R or J or C or R or S or J or B or any of a half-dozen other wonderful fellow office-dwellers I’ve known and loved and commiserated with over the years before quietly going back to my desk and getting to work.

I miss my coworkers. My life-savers. My friends.

The world is so dreadfully managed,
one hardly knows to whom to complain.

~ Ronald Firbank