Learning on the Job

The team moved into our new office, and as a courtesy to me, my desk was outfitted with a neck-height privacy screen. NECK HEIGHT!

What I have learned in three days of sitting here is that privacy screens actually invite intrusion. All who walk by now feel compelled to stop, divert from their intended path, and peer over my screen. Oh it looks like so much fun for the disembodied head to taunt me and recycle the most basic office humor. The head usually takes on a very animated voice, and then addresses the most obvious features of the landscape behind the screen. “Wow! That shirt is very green.” It seems even more fun for those more sophisticated to peer over the divide in mockery of fellow peerers.

A note about the screen. It is made of one-quarter inch thick, steel plate, to which a charcoal-colored, directional patina has been applied on both sides. It is securely anchored to the ground by a 2-inch angle iron cleat, with four studs epoxied into the concrete floor. It is also anchored into the desk with four lag bolts into a similar cleat. When the jihand makes its way to this zip code, I will make sure to stand behind this screen, cradling a litter of kittens. It is four feet wide, while my desk is seven feet wide. It does not start from the wall the way my desk starts from the wall, rather it floats three feet away from the wall. It is this three-foot gap that caused me concern in the first place. As it stood, the bullet proof screen effectively cut me off from the rest of my team, but allowed passers by on the way to the copier, the restroom, the partner’s offices, the atrium, the front desk, the supply closet, anyone who wanted – and all did, to wave to me, make a finger as gun shape with point and click gesture, as they passed. “Heeey 853! How you doin? Workin hard or hardly workin? Come on, smile man!”

So the person in charge of this design fuck up rectified the situation by filling that gap with a piece of frosted lexan, taped only to the edge of the metal screen, as a temporary measure. It butts against the wall, but is not fastened to the wall. It more flirts with the wall. As long as no one touches, breathes, or waves hello in the direction of this gap filler, I can have privacy up to someone else’s neck.

I have tried various solutions, including extending the height of the lexan barrier, but it seems that greater measures invite greater intrusion. Just to be clear, I can't prevent the intrusion; and if that's the case I don’t want to see only the head.

This barrier should be revised, but not removed. If removed, I will be able to see everyone entering and exiting the restroom, and thus will become the restroom monitor. The person who currently bears that designation is Sam, who sits to the left of me. Yesterday, Sam and I heard sounds from the restroom that could only be described as the Slaughtering of the Giant Jello Filled Whoopie Cushion Man. I did not see who it was. Sam did and has since come to regret it.

I have considered pigeon spikes, or applying a layer of poop to the top of the divider. I’m thinking about a scarecrow too. I have spoken with the power broker of design who brought me such an amenity. He suggested that a further improvement would be phased in – date TBD.

Until TBD, I will have to employ such techniques as counting backwards silently while smiling, or feigning autism. More learning opportunities in the area of interpersonal skills are afoot.

This is office life. As I peed, or did something like that, which caused me to be alone with my thoughts, a grand marquis flashed before my eyes, the letters spelling the phrase “Is this what you wanted?”

I caught a reflection of just my frowning face in the mirror. I looked back at myself and egged, "Come on, smile man!"