My nightmare
This morning I came into work to find I have become the victim of a drive-by organizer.
My boss ordered some new shelving units for our office. We've got four of us crammed in here, and for the most part we function pretty well. We're all organized in our own ways, and we're all highly productive (most of the time), so all is right in our little Marketing / Staff Development / Purchasing / IT office.
We had two sets of shelves left from our former location. They were the pressboard shelves that sag when you put more than a piece of paper on them, so you can imagine that they didn't look that great. We kept them pretty clean and organized, though, and our office isn't exactly part of the standard Spa Tour, so we were just fine.
Until the boss decided she didn't like how bad they were looking and ordered us new ones. Yay! I loves me some new shelves, and more storage space and hanging file drawers are always welcome. They were being assembled Friday while I was out of the office.
I even thought to myself, "Uh oh. I won't be here to populate the new shelves myself. I sure hope she doesn't do something..."
Turns out I probably should have planned to stay on Friday, or maybe come back in that afternoon while Zozo was napping, because Boss Lady got ahold of those spankin' new shelves and decided to populate them herself with all our stuff. Without any input. You know, from us.
Bless her little &^%$#@ heart.
Let's just say I didn't take it very well. I came very close to hyperventilating when I walked in this morning and my lovingly organized area had been demolished, and moved, and shoved into drawers and onto shelves in a way that made no sense to me.
I think I may have even fainted for a few moments.
Anyone who knows me even one iota knows that I'm borderline OCD about stuff. I do not like clutter, and my daily mantras consist of "a place for everything and everything in its place" and "when in doubt throw it out." When my mental house is not in order, the first thing I do is get my physical house in order. When I feel overwhelmed, I clean. Actually, I mostly clean out. I bang through and throw things out and pare down down down. I get a high from sorting through the stuffed bills folder, getting them all paid, hole-punched and filed into the binder, and balancing the checkbook to the penny. Sick and sad, I know, but it's who I am. It makes me happy to be clutter-free and hyper-organized.
So today I've spent most of the time "digging out," trying to find my things and put them back into some semblance of order (my order) where I can work productively yet again. I'm at least past the point of being on the verge of tears (we anal-retentive types do not take well to others moving our things) and am starting to feel better again. Most of my things are now where I want them, so that helps. I no longer feel as though someone has burgled my home.
My boss ordered some new shelving units for our office. We've got four of us crammed in here, and for the most part we function pretty well. We're all organized in our own ways, and we're all highly productive (most of the time), so all is right in our little Marketing / Staff Development / Purchasing / IT office.
We had two sets of shelves left from our former location. They were the pressboard shelves that sag when you put more than a piece of paper on them, so you can imagine that they didn't look that great. We kept them pretty clean and organized, though, and our office isn't exactly part of the standard Spa Tour, so we were just fine.
Until the boss decided she didn't like how bad they were looking and ordered us new ones. Yay! I loves me some new shelves, and more storage space and hanging file drawers are always welcome. They were being assembled Friday while I was out of the office.
I even thought to myself, "Uh oh. I won't be here to populate the new shelves myself. I sure hope she doesn't do something..."
Turns out I probably should have planned to stay on Friday, or maybe come back in that afternoon while Zozo was napping, because Boss Lady got ahold of those spankin' new shelves and decided to populate them herself with all our stuff. Without any input. You know, from us.
Bless her little &^%$#@ heart.
Let's just say I didn't take it very well. I came very close to hyperventilating when I walked in this morning and my lovingly organized area had been demolished, and moved, and shoved into drawers and onto shelves in a way that made no sense to me.
I think I may have even fainted for a few moments.
Anyone who knows me even one iota knows that I'm borderline OCD about stuff. I do not like clutter, and my daily mantras consist of "a place for everything and everything in its place" and "when in doubt throw it out." When my mental house is not in order, the first thing I do is get my physical house in order. When I feel overwhelmed, I clean. Actually, I mostly clean out. I bang through and throw things out and pare down down down. I get a high from sorting through the stuffed bills folder, getting them all paid, hole-punched and filed into the binder, and balancing the checkbook to the penny. Sick and sad, I know, but it's who I am. It makes me happy to be clutter-free and hyper-organized.
So today I've spent most of the time "digging out," trying to find my things and put them back into some semblance of order (my order) where I can work productively yet again. I'm at least past the point of being on the verge of tears (we anal-retentive types do not take well to others moving our things) and am starting to feel better again. Most of my things are now where I want them, so that helps. I no longer feel as though someone has burgled my home.
posted by Amy at 12:43 PM
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