If you were to look at my bedroom, you would think me incapable of being clean and orderly. Why? Because I don’t have to be completely anal retentive at home.
At work, however, I need everything to be in order and I completely fly off of the handle when things are moved without me being around. I call this “Selective OCD”. Although I admit that at home I’m about a newspaper stack shy of an episode of Hoarders, at work everything is in order.
Because I am constantly thrown massive amounts of information, I cannot keep all of it in my brain. That is why I put it in specific areas. I file things by level of importance/time sensitivity. I need to do that. I need to sift through a stack of papers and have three piles. The pile on the left is “shit I need to take care of immediately”. The middle stack is “stuff I should probably take care of at some point today.” The stack on the right is “this is so far away it can collect dust”.
I came in this morning to my office and it looked like office Armageddon. My immediate reaction this morning was panic. Panic that something was put in the wrong place and something was going to be overlooked and I would be held accountable for it. It might seem like extreme paranoia… it’s not.
I’m the only person doing my job for my area. Any issues are assumed to be my fault. So there’s that unwanted stress fucking me in the heart.
The following reaction was anger. The havoc made in my office was done by the company my company contracts to do floor cleanings. Of course, my company doesn’t require them to notify us when they will be coming. Instead, we show up the following day wondering three things – “have we just been robbed?”, “why are the floors so shiny?” and “why does it smell like orange melting tires?”
Every time I voice my frustration about this, I am met with the same response – “They don’t tell us when they’re coming.” Um… You know what? They should. All of the information in this office is sensitive information (not to mention corrosive materials that could melt your face off). If my employers aren’t holding their contracted people responsible, I think I might take that to heart and start following that business practice.
I’ma call it the “Do What You Want” policy. I will soon be crafting a paper hat and dancing through the office throwing shredded customer information like confetti. It’s going to be a Monday dance party.
I will also not be answering my work phone. Instead I will be assigning it rad dance party music and will be breakin’ instead of answerin’.
It’s MONDAY! What pisses you off about work?