I tried to call my nephew at work today. When his FL grandma told me he was napping I hung up after the requisite pleasantries.
My cube neighbor, the woman who sits behind me, turned around and said, "You call your nephew every day!" She wasn't being critical, she thought it was nice.
But that's not what bothered me. I just kind of figured that my behind-the-cube neighbor really couldn't hear me on the phone. Apparently she can.
It's nuts for anyone in a job that requires lots of phone talk to sit in a cube. It's dispiriting. If people can hear my personal calls, fine. But I really don't need anyone hearing me make an embarassing pitch to an editor or producer.
Work, work, work--it's hard to figure out the politics at my new office. Everything is determined by a committee. No one seems to act alone. Ever. Sometimes I think I should ask permission to go to lunch. Did I mention no one ever seems to go to lunch? There's so much desk eating.
Many pluses though. No working late, yet. Nice funny officemates. Good authors (so far I'm 4 for 4 on the nice front). And some really truly honestly good books that I will be proud to work on. NYT bestsellers and shizzit. Sweet.