Nesting

For me, a new job typically means anxiety, nervous laughter, and of course, utter bewilderment. I would never have expected the current source of my perplexity before coming into the new and exciting world of the ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICE...

Despite my humble assistant position, I have been granted an office of my own. For most, I suspect having four walls and a door that locks is an advantage, a representation of privacy and the ability to avoid mindless watercooler chitchat. I, on the other hand, took one look at my enormous space, MY office, with floor-to-ceiling shelves that screamed their emptiness at me, painfully blank white walls forcing my eyes into a squint, and enough desktop room for my boss and I to tango upon, and I felt queasy. Left alone to "settle in," I felt myself plagued by the absolute lack of things. I had a computer in front of me, a boring telephone to one side, and a chair. The abundance of desk space was what really troubled me, not only because of the absurd amount of room I had, but because the shape of the desk actually curved around me -- surely designed with the intent of ease in your reaching, but I felt imprisoned. Suddenly I felt beaten down by hundreds of cubic feet of oxygen and florescent lighting. My boss popped in to whisk me away at just the right time.

"Feel free to spruce your office up however you'd like," she said kindly, surely noticing the grimmace I gave the 8x8 cell of an office as we headed down the hall. Her office was myseriously warm. Cozy, really. Her shelves were completely stocked with books. Pictures of beloved children were everywhere. Lovely greeting cards with flowers on them stood up on her desk. But I was just a new assistant; I had no texts relevant to my position. No one had sent me a thank-you card (yet). Short of bringing in curtains, movie posters, or rope light, I had no clue how I would fill my space. I suppose I could bring in a picture or two...

Later, I met the other administrative assistants, older women lucky enough to inhabit the same common space, who assured me in a knowingly exasperated way that "If there's anything you don't know, just ask." Marilyn, the alpha assistant, gave me a formal tour, which included both sets of bathrooms and the "conservatory": the many-windowed hallway that connected my office with the main reception area. "This is where we keep our plants," she said, "so if you ever would like to put a plant in your office, just grab one." A plant? Perhaps... but I was hesitant to grab one immediately.

In the supply closet, Marilyn handed me pens, sticky pads, white-out, index cards, highlighters, even a stapler and tape dispenser. Yes! Things! I gathered them up and scattered them across my desk. Still, it seemed wrong. Only slightly less empty and considerably more messy. What did Marilyn have on her desk? I couldn't remember, except that it looked pleasantly full and interesting. What does anyone have on their desk?

An hour or so later, another assistant stopped by, carrying what looked to me like the filter from a giant coffee machine. "Allison...I brought you a present..." I don't think she really expected me to respond like she had brought me a treasured gift, but when I realized she was holding an oversized pencil cup, I nearly wept with joy.

The next day I proudly marched into work, pulled from my purse a small picture frame displaying my boyfriend and I looking happy, and plunked it down determinedly beside my computer. Then, before even logging into my timesheet, I snatched a plant from the hallway (an aloe plant, the least leafy and therefore least friendly-looking selection, I guess) and set it down in my empty space as well. It's not yet me, but it's coming along. I wonder if rope light would be inappropriate...or a fire hazard...