This week has been spent packing up various offices at my workplace and moving them. Today…
…today I packed my office. There isn’t much; four boxes of files and such. My office mate uses her office, my office, and the connected vacant office as a storage area for refugee rummage sales. I packed my things, found, with my surprise, that my office was still quite full, and prepared to pack my computer, effectively ending my workday. Then I realized:
I will never share an office with her again.
I will never again hear her call a customer service line, scream abuse at the representative, slam the phone down, and call them back — the exact rep, by employee number — so she could continue the abuse.
I will never again hear her heaping abuse on her husband over the phone, ending with a surly, “I love you,” then continuing with bile-filled muttering after she hangs up the phone.
I will never again watch her fight for more responsibilities and then spend the day complaining because she has so much to do.
I will never have to slip out of the office and find someplace to hide, to avoid the building stomach acid from witnessing how she interacts with others.
I may very well never have another flashback to my exwife by watching her behaviors.
I tried to find some tiny bit of good in our time together, a wistfully cherished memory of our office cohabitation, something that I could touch and say to myself, “well, then, for all of that, there is some good in her.”
Perhaps I packed it; I can’t find it at all.