Happy Path

Holiday

Somehow, I made it to Christmas. I still had smack-my-forehead revelations daily when it came to the job, but at least going to work no longer made me feel physically ill. I was spending less time with Charles and accomplishing more on my own. I'd even made a few connections in the building that were resources beyond my boss. I began using the Charles method of asking for help from people who knew the systems.

Having worked for a big company in the past, I thought I had an understanding of workplace provisions. Although I'd moved from department to department while working for CTV and Discovery Channel Canada, each area had certain company supplies in common. I'm talking not about office supplies, which were in abundance at The Bank. I'm talking about the comfort of foodstuffs. At CTV, we had kitchen nooks with toasters and microwaves and kettles. Most spaces also had pod-style coffee machines. Open the communal refrigerator and there was milk and cream. More often than not, there was a box of tea by the sugar and stir sticks. I never worked for a Google-style outfit that provided breakfast and lunch, but there were always the coffee break basics.

To supplement the provided perks, I'd always kept a stash of tea in my desk. My mother had always been a tea drinker, but it wasn't until I moved to Canada as a teenager that I picked up the habit. My grade 11 boyfriend had British parents and when we'd go to his house after school, there was tea and digestive biscuits. I used to call them "dog biscuits" but I grew to like them all the same, especially the ones with chocolate coating on one side. His influence also dictated that I took milk in my tea, no sugar.

When I got to The Bank, I brought my tea along with me. Years before, I'd adopted the habit of eating breakfast when I got to work, which included a steaming mug of tea. I got the lay of the land the first few days before assuming my usual routine. I'd noticed that there wasn't any milk or cream pods in the refrigerator. There were also no take-out cups, which made sense because there didn't seem to be a communal coffee pot or machine. But I'd seen kettles and toasters and a microwave.

It was easy enough to purchase a small container of milk in the cafeteria and stick it in the fridge. However, it would often get thrown out by the cleaning staff before it was empty. I started labelling the cartons more boldly so the cleaners didn't think I was just leaving the cartons to rot. I wanted them to know I was actually working my way through the milk, one cup of tea at a time. I brought in my own mug, which was my habit anyway. I was ready to resume my morning ritual.

I walked into the kitchen and saw a woman filling up the kettle. "Can you top that off for me, please?" She gave me kind of a strange look, but kept the faucet running. "Thanks." I returned to my desk, ten feet away, and waited for the kettle to boil.

The next day, I was fiddling with the kettle's settings when a man offered some guidance. "You just set the temperature here and push this button." Like everything else at The Bank, it seemed unnecessarily complicated. I thanked him for his help.

When I returned for tea that afternoon, the kettle was gone. I was very confused about where it might be. Did someone take it to their desk? But why would someone take the communal kettle to their desk? And then someone else walked into the kitchen, kettle in hand, and started filling it at the water cooler. Are these personal kettles? I wondered. I went back to my desk, empty mug in hand.

I started paying more attention to the work spaces around me. Some desks had loads of pictures and knickknacks, while others looked barely occupied. After being laid off, I vowed never to accumulate so much personal crap at my desk in future workplaces. I also had the mentality that I wouldn't be with The Bank for long, so I never even bothered to put a name tag of any sort on my space. It had the added effect of making me more mysterious!