By the time the 2nd door shut the scent is long gone, as is the beautiful feelings one associates with the scent. Work has been a stressful and depressing atmosphere. We do our best to stay motivated and hope that our hard work will eventually result in good.

We sure could use a little good around these parts. Even when we stop to smell, the rose-scented foyer is not quite enough to fool us into thinking that everything is coming up roses.

Beyond the foyer, many wipe back tears shed after finding out that another crop of our hardworking colleagues are being let go. As our dear friends pack up their things and say goodbye to as many as time would allow, the rest of us walk on eggshells fearing that we’ll be next.

Rumor has it, it’s a cruel world out there — without even the slightest hint of roses.

In addition to feeling like my desk has been plopped down in the middle of a call center, the coughing and having to get up for more warm water (or to pee) thoroughly distracted me from my goal. I’d read and reread the documents, searching for my place. What was the point of my being there?

The mere fact that the culture I work in is compelled to come into the office in both sickness and in health has always maddened me. “Go home!,” I would tell them, “I don’t want what you have.” Yet here I was, in the office just because I felt like I wasn’t sick enough to justify a sick day — especially when the boss said she’d hardly heard me coughing. It made no sense.

During lunch, instead of joining the masses for the bi-weekly lunch, I grabbed my food and ate at my desk. I wished I’d had the energy to run but knew it would just push me over the edge. Although I was better in the quiet, this extra hour of work only served to wear me out even further. No surprise. I’ve always believed that walking away from my work mid-day helps to reset my mind for better efficiency and concentration. Generally, my body needs movement as well.

Not until I was leaving did I feel even remotely “sick enough” to be home. I grabbed my keys and said good-night to my colleague, murmuring “I’m taking my germs home now.” Much to my surprise, I heard a loud “GOOD!” come from her cube. Then I began to wonder if my perception of the cultural expectation to be seen in the office regardless of your health status was accurate. Perhaps I was still in denial that I was indeed sick.

Today, there is no denying that I am indeed sick. I will NOT be going to the office.  I feel it is needed, if only to be able to cough as hard as required to get this gunk moved out. Since I’m here in bed, I may as well take a really long nap too.

This mirrored globe sits on the ceiling above the center-most cubicles in my new work dwelling. I’ve named it the spy ball as you can see into each of the cubicles without getting up from your chair. Fortunate for me, I reside in one of the farthest cubicles from the thing. As all the boxes get unpacked and the dust settles (literally), I find that the ball is the least of my worries.

Although we aren’t as packed in like sardines as I had imagined the narrow walkway that leads to my cubicle has caused me reason to sniffle. The handmade bowl that Big Sis made for me when she was in college was rendered unusable thanks to my hitting it on one of the filing cabinets as I was returning to my cubicle after washing it. Seems that the walkway is even narrower than I thought.

In spite of the adjustments, I can be thankful that I still have a job.  In this day and age, is not something anyone can take for granted.

The resulting intermixing of the departments took a bit for my hyper-acute senses to acclimate to. I adjusted to the new noises which included, among others, the constant hum of the computer server in the neighboring cubicle and a rather passionate coworker who outwardly expresses her frustration while reading emails. Well, I’ve almost adjusted. Honestly, I’m still getting used to my coworker’s reactions which span the gamut from loud sighs to pressure-cooker like steaming of “OMG,” “You have GOT to be kidding me!” and other various expressions of frustration. Sometimes I just have to walk away from my desk for a bit to let my own blood pressure go down as she continues to let off steam.

Next there are the smells. Yes, smells! Unfortunately for me, not everyone is as selective in their choice of perfume — nor as stingy in the amount applied. I’m have been so sensitive to intense fragrances that I’ve actually (in past jobs) left work with migraines as a result. I suppose that is why I have yet to find a fragrance for myself to wear on those special occasions. In our close-nit quarters, however, the new scents have fooled my mind into thinking they were a whole other smell all together. After wandering around trying to find the source of the bug-spray-like smell, I crawled back to my desk when I realized that it must be someone’s perfume. Why the #^@& they feel the need to apply what smells like 1/2 the bottle after lunch is beyond me. I just hoped that nobody heard me verbalizing my uneasiness.

Other than my brief stay, after Company G purchased Company C and moved me an hour from home, I have not had to deal with cubicle dwelling for upwards of 10 years. Wait, make that EVER. I know it’s just how things are these days, but I still miss having my own office space, and a door that I can shut when I need to shut out the sounds and smells of others — or protect others from my own outbursts and odors.

Did I mention that it’s FREEZING?

Well, now my company has announced that rising costs necessitate that everyone in our building will need to move into one of the two other buildings down the street. I cringe at the thought of what affect that will have on my hyper-sensitive senses. Everyone is fearing what the affect of squeezing us all in will be. There are 40-50 of us who will move and, it appears, little to no space available. But they assure us that there is space.

If only they’d let us work from home a couple of days each week. Yeah, I KNOW; I’m dreaming.

At the end of the day, at least I have my own space to come home to. A house where I am in control of the temperature (or at least the thermostat) that is filled with my own sounds and smells. Err… Well, at least if the teen-boy smells get overbearing there is an easy solution: either send him to the shower or retreat to my personal space.

You see, when I pulled up the carpet in my bedroom, I couldn’t stop. I then pulled it up in the adjoining room: Tom’s old office. The room has largely been ignored for the past nearly-5 years. As if Tom still had some sort of ownership of it. Well, I finally put my foot down.

Not only did I yank up the carpet, I also got ride of the excess of office furniture (some by accident and some on purpose). The remaining desk and chair is all I need. It’s perfect — or nearly perfect.

My next task will be to print, frame, and hang all those photographs I’ve collected up over the years. It’s time, and this change has been long overdue.

I may have a cubicle at work but, at home, I have plenty of office space of my own. Pretty awesome, eh?

There is no denying that my lunchtime escapes have a huge effect on my inner peace and ability to handle the stresses of everyday life. I just never thought of myself as one who outwardly showed stress – at least not of the work-related kind.

Apparently, I was wrong.