While speaking to my manager yesterday about working conditions (she's very solicitous), I was reminded of starting my first full-time job as a tech writer in Toronto. The building was due for renovation and there was limited office space. For the first three months I carried my working papers, desk supplies, and reference books in boxes (cheekily labelled "Karen's Desk" and "Karen's Office"). When I came in in the morning I'd ask my boss where I'd be working that day. I counted---23 different work spaces between July and October. Finally I was assigned an actual office with a door that closed. I shared it with another technical writer and we got along famously.
But sometimes I'd come in and sit down and find that my PC was missing. A manager would "borrow" it for presentations because it had the right pin count in a PS2 slot or something.
Eventually the building renovations started and my team and a couple of others moved to temporary office space. I had an office. With a push-button phone. And a door that closed. But my insensitive boss (when she got pregnant, and declared that every woman should have at least one baby, and I said I didn't want to ever, she said I should anyways and give the baby up for adoption) would open my door, speak to me, and leave without closing the door again. This happened a few times one afternoon, and I got up and closed the door after her each time. The last time I guess I sort of closed it a bit more firmly (I mean, the glass didn't rattle or anything, but it was close to a slam), she opened the door again, looked at me oddly, and closed it again.
Other than that it was a fine place to work.
At this new place, I'm getting eye strain due to the overhead fluorescents, and I can't figure out how to adjust my chair, and after three weeks I still don't have access to the network folders. But at least they're not paying me...
6 years ago