You know that scene in Office Space in which Milton, the mumbling guy who has to move his desk all the time, has to move again, and all he has to hold on to is a red stapler? That stapler is HIS and it’s all he has. He has no dignity, but he’s got his stapler. And he’s gonna cling to it.
Unlike Milton, I am so blessed to have an actual 3X6 foot office WITH A DOOR at my public middle school. I am not being sarcastic, for once. Space is a commodity at schools, and private space is unheard of. As many of you know, it took me over 8 months to get an actual key to this office, due to bureaucratic nonsense.* Prior to that, I had to lug my bags into the main office, get a key, lug my bags into the office, run the key back to the office, pray all day that no one came in to take my stuff from an unlocked office, then get the key at the end of the day to lock up again. So you can imagine my territorial reaction to the following note, placed upon my desk last week:
Hi. This is Judy and I am the new speech pathologist. I need you to clean out one of your file drawers for my files and I will need to get your key to share.
Oh no she di’nt! Who does she think she is? I earned that key! I earned that drawer! That’s MY stapler! She will have to pry that key out of my tiny, angry, shaking fist of fury on the day I leave this job! *deep breath* I’m okay now. I am not opposed to sharing. I will behave. I just resent the tone of the note. Maybe she comes from a school where it is normal to have an office and a key, no problems. So I cleaned out a drawer for her, like a good coworker.
But she’s not getting my key. She will have to earn it, just like I did. I am officially Miltina.
*I do not yet have a key to the building to get into said office, so every morning I get to hunt down a janitor whilst holding five million bags of stuff, wielding large coffee about. Someday I will have paid my dues long enough to earn that key…*wistfully stares into future*