It’s been three days since I’ve been stripped of my identity here at work. And while as a Buddhist attaining a state of no self is considered a high spiritual attainment, as a corporate employee it is just a pain in the ass.
Yesterday, when I went to security to get my badge reactivated, I was greeted by the same security guy who tried to drag me down to HR the other day, mistaking me for another employee who shares my name. I used to really like this security guard. He always greeted me every morning with a smile. The other guards just sit there looking bored out of their skulls, and never bother to smile or greet us. I came to appreciate his warmth and the fact that he hid a book at his station that he would read surreptitiously. So when I saw him again, I would expect we might share a giggle at the misunderstanding. Nope. Dead serious. Not even an apology for causing me to almost soil myself when I thought I was going to be hauled away and given my walking papers. Nope. Strictly business. Weird.
I still don’t have my email back. My trouble ticket apparently has fallen into the gaping maw of the IT Help Desk. No word on when I’ll be back in the loop.
Life goes on without our colleagues. Both Mike and Pauline’s offices are dark. Around 2:30 in the afternoon is when I miss them the most. Both kept a bowl of candy on their desks. If I felt like babbling or venting, I’d stopped by Pauline’s office. She was a woman of few words, but an excellent listener. Mike, on the other hand, was a great yarn spinner. So, if you stopped by his office, you might as well get comfy because he could tell you a tale . . . or two . . . or three. He had a big personality and seemed to have seen it all and done it all.
I wish them both the best. Now, I just gotta talk someone else into stocking a candy bowl for the 2:30 sugar pick-me-up.