The Vacant Desk: an introduction

Greetings to our educated masses; most of whom are my friends and the rest, well, I'm sure we'll meet over a pint or a glass of vino one day in the near future.

It's the end of another day of working for The Man. Regardless of where you work, or who you work for, those of you who have a job that's biding time until something else comes along - or you publish that winning novel - will be able to relate to working for The Man. Others may know friends or family who work for The Man. Perhaps you are currently working for The Man, but are in the denial phase. The denial phase comes right after the disaffected wanderer phase and slightly before the crestfallen idealist phase. Please check your status, and then return to reading this post.

I'm a writer. At least, that's what I tell myself. I'm happily struggling through my first novel - a fictional bit that is a little Canadiana and a little murder mystery. It's sort of like a "where's Waldo", but instead of looking for a funny fellow in a striped shirt, readers can play spot-the-Canadianism. Or they can just read a fun read. Whichever.

However, happily struggling through a first novel doesn't make a good fit should one wish to engage in regular mortgage payments and keep a balanced Canada Food Guide diet. So, I hold a job in an office. A government office at that. What an unusual world that is.

Few jobs are as transferable as that in office administration. I don't mean Administration - where people wear expensive suits, hold conferences (not meetings) and receive significantly higher salaries. No, I don't mean that - although doesn't it sound nice some days. I mean answer-the-phone-and-process-the-mail-and-sometimes-maybe-format-a-letter administration. Organization of the company paperwork, if one will. Management of rows of letters and words on reams of paper. Filing. Stationary ordering. Jane & Jack of all trades stuff.

I know there are many others like me out there, labouring in jobs taken temporarily until something better comes along or that one thing is finished/published/written/painted/sold. Maybe, like me, some of you have even had a few of these jobs, moving along the company ladder instead of up it. Just enough change in title, telephone extension and cubicle to keep you engaged for another few months, but not enough to keep you from updating your resume every week and checking out the help wanted section over your microwaved Lean Cuisine lunch.

This will be a record of our collective, ongoing, silent plight. It will capture the tales we tell to one another over coffee in environmentally friendly reusable mugs. Mugs that we have collected through years of office gifts for Administrative Professionals Week. Mugs that have happy, funny little sayings like "you don't have to be crazy to work here, but it helps", or "so freakin' happy I can just scream".

Here, among the hallowed pages of the Internet (and likely owned in some way, shape or form by Google), we will share our frustrations about those who don't empty the communal shredder. We will rail against those who politely inform us that the copier needs a refill, and who then walk away. We will sneer at the person who, repeatedly, leaves the jammed stapler in the file room.

It is here that we will laugh at incorrectly addressed envelopes, gossip about someones tendency to hoard stationary and complain about the unwashed dishes left in the lunch room sink. We will find many, many other stories to share which reflect how desperately and quietly our hope, creativity & ambitions are being slowly eroded.

Think that's all The Vacant Desk will do? Please. My sense of self and stinging, wry wit hasn't completely withered up. Yet.

The Vacant Desk will be a beacon of light and hope for those working for The Man. It will help us shore up our crumbling inner self. Through the telling of tales we will remind ourselves - and each other - that we are valuable, educated and worthy of much more than a novelty mug.

Once in a while, we might be able to see that, despite the price we are paying in the interim, there is a door at the end of this long hallway. We will reach that door, turn the handle and enter the world we are meant to enter after transcending this temporary space.

We will leave behind a vacant desk, and nothing more.


~ Paige