We don't have much time to chat during the day, except sometimes at lunch -- and all too often, lunch conversations turn into work-related conversations. And that's OK; we all need to vent.
But I love the kinds of spontaneous conversations that occur sometimes when workloads are huge and deadlines are tight and minds are tired -- the kinds that involve pointless talk about cosmetic surgery and Marie Osmond's dolls and Posh Spice's hat. Those are the things Jeff, Christy and I spent 15 minutes chatting, and laughing hard, about earlier this week.
No one likes his or her job all the time -- as my dad used to say, "That's why they call it 'work.'" But I can honestly say that I'd like to hang out with most of these people even if I didn't work with them. Not only were they beyond kind when my dad passed away, but they're just good, decent people. At the risk of sounding too obnoxious, most days, I look forward to seeing them.
No one's perfect, and there are times we're all sick of each other. But for the most part, I lucked out when I made the leap to this place six years ago. Before I took the job, I was worried about being a nameless, faceless cog in a monolithic company, and it's true that outside of my smallish department, few people know who I am. But I like that just fine. I know the people I work with, and they know me.
During my adult life, I've worked for about a half-dozen companies, and in my experience, success has more to do with the fit of the relationships more than with the actual work a person is charged with doing. Drop me anywhere and I can write copy. But give me a desk surrounded by people who make me laugh -- and whose lives I genuinely care about -- and I can write really good copy.
I laughed so hard today that I actually snorted. That's not attractive, but it's indicative of the fact that I'm more fortunate that the majority of the cube-dwellers in this country.
And if Monday is a bad day, well -- I'll go ahead and hit "publish" so I can read this again if I need it.