I spread my wings and leap into the sky, soaring –

–and gravity slams me to the ground.

I’ve spent the past couple weeks acting autonomously, anticipating accurately, preparing appropriately, and being vindicated by the outcome. I have been insightful, proactive, and effective. The office has undergone equipment replacement and software upgrades before, with outsourced support; all have been disasters. Under my hand, this one went much smoother, much faster, with NO LOSS OF PRODUCTIVITY. None. Zero. This is unprecedented at this company, a company full of technophobes.

I have documented the thousands of dollars I have saved this company this year, in time saved, in procedures streamlined (translated into time, which translates to money). I have saved the company close to half my wages for the year. More, if I could figure out how to document the everyday stuff that I do.

The CFO called me in today, just before end of shift.

He feels that, when I move to the IT position, I should be working in the new offices. Fine, I’m good with that. I have seen my name sketched on three different offices on the plans, any of which would be dandy.

The CFO plans to put me down in the common bay offices. The one he has in mind is the common bay that is a widened hallway between the production support offices, accounting, and the bathrooms, next to the copy machine. My back would be to the hall all day, as the world passes through my workspace constantly. “You don’t need an office, do you? You can do your job anywhere, right?”

“I’ve had an office…I’d like to continue having an office.”

“Well, I’d like lots of things, too, but I come here to do a job. Why don’t I move into a smaller office, and you can have mine?” If you didn’t care about the answer, why did you ask? Rhetorical questions shouldn’t sound like actual ones. I told him his idea sounded good to me. He laughed.

I’ve had my own office for two years. Now I won’t even have a cubicle.

His suggestion for my new job title is “IT Clerk”. He told me to write up what I thought my job duties would be. “That isn’t,” he assured me, “what they will be, whatever you’ve been told. I just want to see what you think they should be.”

This sounds like a scene from an office=hell movie. Or a week of Dilbert.

Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry