When I moved here and found out I’d have easy employ in a family business, I was pleased. I don’t get on with normal office paradigms, especially the insistence that there will be unavoidable drama. That was the main selling point people tried to use on me as to why I should stay in the Air Force — that such was unavoidable. In that regard, I won.
And yet, here I am, sitting in a real office again. It is delightfully quiet, as our space is down in the basement (though above ground enough to have a normal sized window beaming wan light inward). I find that I am somewhat pleased about this step in our business journey, especially knowing the only other thing down here is storage and the break room and that I won’t have to deal with many people from my delightful corner. It’s nice to know that my mother-in-law will get her house back. It’s sort of nice to be back in ‘real’ quarters… or hell, my first time ever in a proper office. One cannot call a warehouse full of half-partitions a proper office, I maintain.
I do wonder if I’m trying to make an overly positive spin though. And if I am, I don’t blame myself; I need to believe that this will be good for the sake of my bipolar and mental health as a whole. I have to believe I will have the relative isolation I require to maintain sanity. I have to believe that I will not be forced to socialize with people unless I desire to. I don’t mind having friends amongst co-workers, mind, but I don’t subscribe to the theorem that I have to be ‘yay team office buddies bffs’! That’s much too extroverted for me, yanno?
For now though, I do still feel optimistic. We’ll see how it goes when we’re actually in here permanently.