Monday, April 5, 2010

The Center of the World

I like to think of myself as a hard worker. I would like to think my co-workers think the same of me. However, I can almost guarantee they do not. This fact has nothing to do with how much work I do, or how well I do it. It has everything to do with where I sit. If the newsroom were New York City, my desk would be Times Square. And everything on my computer screen? It would be the giant billboard hanging right in the middle.

It does not matter how long I work, or how many stories I write, the minute that I take a break, and look at anything on my computer non-work related someone is right there over my shoulder to comment on it. I don't think I would be half as annoyed about it if they came up with an interesting quip, but most of the time it is something like "are you putting your baby's picture in the news," or "working hard or hardly working?" That's when I get stabby. After all, I know every one of these commenters gets to go back to their carefully cubed in desks, in the Williamsburg and Bronx sections of the newsroom, and happily work, or not work, without anyone being any the wiser.

I don't think I would mind the comments so much if I were allowed to work when I was working. However, there is something about where I sit, and my overall demeanor (since I am so lovely and welcoming), that makes people think I am always up for a chat. Not sure about the day's news? Ask Libby. Want to know the latest newsroom gossip? Libby muse have heard something, look at where she sits! Need some sympathy and a shoulder to cry on? Libby has a kid now, so that must have softened her. Want to show off pictures of your cats? Libby, well, actually, Libby might make you eat them; there has to be a line. Just tell her the stories, instead.

I really wish I were kidding.

I guess I could move my desk. It would be difficult, and I would have to "king of the mountain" someone out of their spot, but I scare a lot of people, so I could probably do it. The real reason that I don't move though? Despite all of the annoyances, and aspersions cast, I like where I sit. After all, Time Square is where the action happens, and I am an excellent eavesdropper. Everyone knows location and information are key for anyone wanting to be any good in news. Also, this way I always know when people have brought in free food. Oh, and it feeds into my delusion that the world somehow revolves around me.

So, damn it, Jim, I'm staying. If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere.*


*In this instance anywhere refers to any newsroom at a mid-level market television station in the continental United States, that has a soda machine that is never out of Diet Pepsi. Thanks for reading.

8 comments:

Jules said...

Ahhh, and that is why I am glad that my room is the FURTHEST down the hall at the VERY end. You have to HUNT me down to talk to me.

THAT and my pleasant demeanor....

Riot Kitty said...

I don't miss working in a newsroom.

She Said said...

You eat cats??? I always knew you and Greg would hit it off.

Maureen@IslandRoar said...

Hey, you're the center of your universe, and that's all that counts. You obviously have a magnetic personality...

G said...

Got the same problem with my cube.

Because I'm in such a high traffic spot (I'm the first thing that you see when you enter our unit), I've become the de-facto goto person whenever someone has a question/issue/problem.

Which makes it kind of hard to be left alone when I need to be left along.

Like at lunch.
Break.
Going home.

Sam said...

I got a little excited reading this at first that you actually have a view of Times Square from your desk. This happily distracted me for so long that it wasn't until the end when I thought "Wait. She doesn't live in New York, does she?"

You do seem rather pleasant, from this end. I might stop by your desk.:)

Kelly said...

I have an office with an actual door, and I'm not afraid to use it. I have one employee who likes to come and hover over me while I am on the phone, or with a client, or writing on my blog, or reading a blog, and it makes me crazy. Now I just go shut my door when it looks like he's getting up to come talk to me.

BugginWord said...

You could put a wee pad under your chair and see if that dissuades unwelcome visits. If it doesn't work, try pouring some tea on it.