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A list of freelance articles and due dates--a dead giveaway that if I'm not actually freelancing during the work day, then I'm at least thinking about it on company time.
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Thought crime number one. |
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Several unanswered phone messages spanning the last couple of weeks from PR people and researchers trying to pitch me stories I couldn't care less about.
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Article development opportunities rotting on the vine. I wonder if he's divesting from his job, if he's already moved on mentally.
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Two half full (half empty?) cups of cold coffee. Caffeine is no longer sufficient to stave off the narcolepsy I suffer when reading government laboratory reports, not to mention the inevitable after lunch nap. At least now she knows that I try to stay awake, even though the sight of coffee near the computer probably lead her to look for coffee spillage, which she no doubt found.
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All over the keyboard and mouse pad! Destroying office property. He just doesn't care anymore.
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Behind the computer monitor lay two speakers which are no longer hooked up to my computer. I inadvertently disconnected them when I took my bike home after "storing" it next to my desk for 8 months.
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Maybe he's started taking things home in anticipation of getting a new job. And the fact that the speakers aren't hooked up....well, he's just given up any pretense of reviewing CD ROMs for the magazine, that's obvious!
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On the copy tray, a hypertext map I drew for a story I did for Word.com on the medicinal uses of marijuana;
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Maybe he gets high during lunch -- maybe that's why he takes naps every afternoon. It would certainly explain why he's always acting so weird!
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behind the copy tray is a piece of paper with the name Abe Dane, Hearst News Online;
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Maybe he's had an interview with him? Have I ever met Abe Dane socially? Did I make a good impression? Hearst definitely pays more
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directly in front of the copy tray is a Lone Ranger tie tack
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He's a maverick, but he never wears a tie. Dress code demerit right there. Wait -- maybe he IS wearing a tie -- on interviews!
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resting on top of several business cards from faceless Intergraph executives who shut me up in a little hotel room in Seattle in February and tried to convey the absolute urgency of their mission: to let the world know how great their software is and my role in getting the word out.
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Why hasn't he written a story about Intergraph? They spend a ton on advertising with us.
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A fax confirming the briefing I just had with the PR people from Softdesk, Inc.,
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That's why he waltzed in here so late! He should have told me he had a meeting. Why didn't he tell me? Maybe it was really a job interview and he skipped the meeting -- and if I knew and called Softdesk to see how things went, then I'd have him NAILED!
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a fax I frantically searched for yesterday and which partially conceals a notepad that I only use to refer to the phone number for Columbia Journalism School's jobline, 212-854-6844, which lists new jobs every Monday.
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Jobline? That explains everything.
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A brochure for the Incinolet electric toilet that I'm trying my damndest to find space for in my emerging technology newsletter; I'd do just about anything to get that exploding outhouse on the front page before I leave this job. Maybe if I spin it as an innovative waste treatment technology?
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Maybe he thinks it's funny--when he's high!
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On top of the phone list is one half-eaten frosted strawberry Pop-tart
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"Munchies," I'm sure
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which has doubled as breakfast and lunch -- I could have called it brunch but it's a weekday, so I'll just call it a Pop-tart and whoa! -- there's my phone ringing the dreaded single ring meaning it's my boss at the other end and I've got to wrap up this little tour of my desk. I wonder if we're finally going to have the Big Talk.
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I wonder if he's ready for
The Big Talk?
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Harry Goldstein is a writer and editor living in Manhattan. His work has appeared in Utne Reader, American Book Review, Promethean, AltX, word.com, and other periodicals.
© 1996 Harry Goldstein, All Rights Reserved
