Yesterday I moved to a new cubicle at work. This is what my new place looked like. Nice, huh? Moving was no big deal...lots of people move, or are relocated work stations all the time. I know many people who would hate working in any cubicle so it doesn't matter where it's located.
I've written about cubicles before--probably written too much about cubicles, but when you spend more time during the weekday in one space than I do eating, or sleeping, it can make an impact. In fact, I've been assigned seven different desks in the past 14 months. To put that into perspective, before that, I moved eight times in the previous 16 years.
But yesterday was unusual. One half hour after I was all set up and working, word came from on high that I needed to move back. This was no big deal as far as my time was concerned. I only moved across the hall and set up everything. Last week everything was a go for the move. After I moved, either someone changed their mind or a critical person in the decision-making process was never informed of the move in the first place.
I know things like this shouldn't bug me, but it did, a little. But I realized today it really doesn't matter. And the fact that I'm allowing work to control me to that degree sort of embarrassed me. After all, aren't we supposed to overcome things, like fears and bullies and decisions made by middle management? Pretty sure we are.
So, tomorrow as I work the last day of my work week, I'll sit in my old spot, get my work done, listen to an audiobook and podcasts and think about the weekend. It's much better than worrying about stuff that really doesn't matter.