I went down to check on my new office today since I'm required to move out of my current office by Friday and I've been out of town for a week, surely long enough for all the promised work to be completed. You know what's coming:
The lock hadn't been changed so I couldn't get in.
I waited for campus police to let me in and discovered dingy paint, cobwebs draping the corners, extra filing cabinets lining the walls, and the filthiest floor I've ever seen outside a gas-station rest room.
I talked to the Powers That Be about the difficulty of moving into an office that hasn't been cleaned and painted and to which I do not possess a key, and they said, "Oh, that office is done."
I talked to some Higher Powers, who checked with the Lower Powers, who assured them that the work had been done.
"Nothing has been done," I said. "If you don't believe me, go over and see for yourself." He promised to do so. Meanwhile, I've received two more phone calls and an e-mail from various PTBs and their minions assuring me that the work on that office has already been done when anyone with functioning eyeballs could clearly discern that NOTHING HAS BEEN DONE.
But that's okay. Who am I to demand an actual functioning office? Starving children in Mogadishu don't have offices at all. It's totally selfish to expect an office when we have underutilized spaces all over campus. I'll just find a quiet corner of some supply closet or stash my books in a rest-room stall--or, I know, there's space under that big table outside the English Department office. It might be a little tight when I have to meet with students, but at least it's a space, and what more do I want?
Easy answer: I want an office!