Back in the summer, I got a new computer at work. I'd been using it without incident for a couple of months before I noticed the warning sticker between the "delete" key and the up arrow.
I nearly jumped out of my chair. Have they given me an exploding keyboard? I wondered.
But then I checked the website on the warning. It has advice on workstation setup, posture, and health and work habits; not bomb disposal tips. So I have relaxed about it.
Two of my colleagues came along as I was snapping this picture.
"You have a fan," said one to the other.
"You're the artist?" I asked.
"I saw the bags there and they just cried out for snowmanification," she replied.
Someday, at my place of employment, I hope to have a workspace with a window.
In the meantime, rather than curse the darkness, I have strategically hung a mirror that I removed from a broken microfiche reader.
I can glance up and see if the sun is shining. I can also see whether traffic is moving on Baseline Avenue.
Not that it matters to me, but it's soothing. Like watching tropical fish in an aquarium.
I got some quizzical comments about the liquid in the mason jar on my desk at work.
You know me, I don't like people to be out of sorts if I can clear things up with a simple label.
My second favourite plate might actually be a bowl. (I think of it more as a plate because if it is a bowl, it would be very low on my list of favourite bowls.) However, it has a good sized flat area suitable for cutting food with a knife, but high sides that help keep sloppy things from going where I don't want them to go. I don't remember where it came from. I've only got one like it and have never noticed others like it at friends or relatives.
About six months ago I brought it to work so that I could eat a microwaved lunch with fewer plastic leachates.
It also turns out that I've saved about five paper plates already by having my own plate on Chili Days and Meatball Sandwich Days.
The only downside is getting used to washing dishes at work. I've been conscientious about going into the floor kitchen, waiting patiently for my turn at the sink, washing my plate, containers and cutlery, wiping off the counter and then taking my things back to my desk. One time, late in the afternoon, the kitchen was empty and I left my things in the sink to soak while I went to the bathroom. I meant to go right back, but I forgot.
I remembered about an hour later. When I got to the kitchen, I discovered that someone had washed and stacked my dishes for me. Oh, oh, I thought, now there's going to be a new note above the sink, or someone is going to send out an email: "Please do not leave your dishes in the sink - Your mother doesn't work here." But no such message appeared and since then I've been good.
That's why I was really surprised to see my second favourite plate on top of the microwave a couple of weeks ago. I figured I must have left it behind the last time I washed it, maybe because I'd washed a coffee cup in addition.
Walking back to my desk with it, I noticed a black dot that I didn't remember seeing before.
And then at my desk, I discovered why. The plate on the microwave was not my plate. It was a sibling. I turned them over and they had the same blue text on the bottom.
As I brought the plate with the black dot back to the kitchen, a string of thoughts went through my head:
So that's what I did. It stayed on the microwave for about a week, but now I don't know where it is. And I have not yet been accused of stealing the plate that I actually own.
I've delayed several weeks in posting this because while I'm happy to see binder clips being used, holding papers together is not exactly an innovative use for them.
Furthermore, I'm not convinced they are the appropriate tool for this purpose. My preference would be a cut-out envelope.
Adding, finding and removing papers from a cut-out envelope is much easier and reduces the risk of everything falling onto the floor each time you add or remove a paper.
My first consumer product for 2008 was inspired by a gentleman who works in a cubicle near my workspace. He has a professional looking sign that says "Lunch" that he places on his desk between Noon and 1pm.
The sign is useful because he doesn't only use it while he eats at his desk, he also leaves it up while he does non-work activities on his computer.
There are two obvious benefits of the Lunch sign:
As soon as it occurred to me that I could use a sign like that, it occurred to me that it would be handy to have other signs as well. Signs that would indicate that while I am at my desk, I am actually occupied in legitimate non-productive time. And as soon as that occurred to me, it occurred to me that others could also use these signs.
And so, I offer you 8 Time Out Signs, under the same Creative Commons - Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 licence that all my content on this blog is offered under. You may find it easiest to download all 8 as a Word Doc, or you can save the jpgs.
Tiana of Strangers in the Background writes:
Attached you will find a photo of a coworker of mine (face obscured because he fears the internet). His wife lays out his clothes for him and he was upset to arrive at work with no front pocket for his pen. I helped him work something out for the day as seen in the photo.
I'm entirely pleased to be back at work using my vast legal knowledge for the betterment of society, not least because I have a new opportunity to create an efficient workspace.
In this case, the previous cubicle denizen left a bent paper clip hook hanging that has made an excellent mount for my collection of binder clips.
[Another reason I am happy in my new workspace is exhibited with that pushpin I did not crop out of the photo. I have more than enough pushpins! This is the first time I have ever started a new job and had more than enough pushpins. It is so nice to not have to sneak around stealing unused ones from other peoples' work stations or stapling things to public bulletin boards so I can remove the pushpins that were originally holding them there. This leads me to the observation that I find myself enjoying jobs far more now than I did twenty years ago. This might be because I no longer care much if my work is interesting. I mostly just want to spend my day around nice people and not have to struggle too hard to get the things I need to do my job.]
On my last day in Little Lepreau, I got into a difference of opinion with one of my band mates. Like me, she had collected many rocks from the beach. Unlike me, she had also collected other objects like pieces of wood and shells. She began arranging them and re-arranging them, occasionally having artistic flares of temper: "that's just not right!"
I suggested that she could make presents for people by bundling her found objects with sand and letting them make Zen gardens with them.
"I don't see it with sand," she said.
I gently tried to convince her that sand is the way to go, but she had closed her mind to sand.
Okay, I thought, I was gracious enough to let her have one of my brilliant ideas, but if she doesn't want to run with it, I will. The next morning, just before driving away, I filled a large coffee can with sand from the beach.
Back at home, I did some research on zen gardens. I learned that they should probably be called "Japanese rock gardens" because they have existed in Japan for a long time and it was an American who gave them the "Zen" title in 1935. Oh, oh, I thought, if the Japanese are behind these things, there are probably complex rules about the elements and their arrangements. That's no good for me.
So instead of making Zen gardens or Japanese rock gardens, I make mojo gardens.
What does a mojo garden need?
No place to hang your jackets at work?
Attach binder clips to the shelf and you're all set.
Posts
All Comments
