My first week back in the old department went well. They made some changes in the seating arrangement, and while still not ideal, I do feel like I have a modicum of privacy now.
The girl (whom I'd referred to as the Comicon chick prior to my return) whose cube my desk intrudes upon is cool with it. She'd been out for two months on medical leave, so returning to work to discover that her entire layout had been rearranged to accommodate this interloper was probably the least of her concerns.
She plays music during the day at a low volume; not really low enough you can't hear it, but not loud enough that it's annoying. On Wednesday I heard Phillip Glass playing and I turned around and said, "Is that Phillip Glass?"
"Oh my god…you know who Phillip Glass is?!?"
And I dare say that was the beginning of a wonderful work friendship.
Turns out she's a lot more hard core about Glass than I am; she has all his albums (whereas I have only a dozen or so), has been to numerous live concerts, and has even met the man…five times.
She's Star Wars. I'm Doctor Who. We respect each other's fandoms.
Work itself hasn't been bad. I have a few roadblocks at the moment: no phone and the inability to drive a company vehicle to the various remote sites. This limits the things I can do—or at least limits the speed at which I can get things accomplished. My supervisor is working on both items, so once that's in place I can return to my usual efficiency.
And we had a fire drill last week. I'm on the fifth floor now, and all I can say is thank the gods I wasn't on nineteen like I had been. My knees don't do well with stairs—in either direction—and 24 hours later my calves and knees are both loudly complaining about those five flights I had to scramble down. Hey, I'm not 25 any more!