digital pen, digital paper.

Articles of Confession

Office Politics

There are 5 people who sit in the front office. Me, Los Angeles Sales Boss, Customer Service New Yorker, Hot Account Rep. Surfer Chick, and EXECUTIVE LIAISON!.

Los Boss is oblivious to a lot of things, including the AC settings. the rest of us are at constant war with each other over who controls the climate. No one will ever directly reference the battles, just that “It feels warm” or “God, it’s freezing” and of course, the silent adjustment. CSNY and I are in agreeance that it needs to be kept cool — let’s say 70 to 72. EL! and Surfer Chick are always pushing it to 78 or even 80.

Our most recent battle.

I am working here at my desk. All is quiet except for tapping at keyboards and clicking of mice.

Two soft finger snaps draw my attention. Looming behind the half-wall room divider, CSNY is peering down the center of the room  to make sure no one but me is watching. He makes a “what are they thinking” face while shrugging his shoulders up and making an underhanded point toward the thermostat. We share a nod as the AC kicks on.

He makes a move to walk back to his desk, but changes his mind and pivots quickly over to my desk to show me something very important. His armpit. He points out the small sweat spot and angrily shakes his head disapprovingly.

This battle is over, but we know the war will rage on.