Dingleberry

Four days before my last day at work, I was asked to vacate my desk.
I thought it was fine, since I had resigned, so the new manager could have it. I chose to leave all these, didn't I?

While I was clearing my desk, I started to feel strange. Bad strange. There was something wrong, but I could not decide what. But I was sure I felt...small.

And because I could not yet find some rational explanation why I should be feeling that way, I kept it to myself. Maybe I was just sad to leave, after all.

Then, I realized that I was not told where I should transfer. That made me feel worse. Good thing I found a vacant desk, where I could put my stuff (not a lot since I like my desk uncluttered)- a paperweight, pen and business card holders, a notebook and a calculator. There were some important documents in my drawers, but the new manager (nm) should have them, anyway.

Once I was done, I even helped NM settle (she pretends to need help all the time, though I know she can very well do things by herself). I felt the need to help her not because I was feeling helpful but because I felt increasingly mortified for no apparent reason (at least to me). If I had just sat there and entertained the feeling, people would have noticed, and that was unthinkable.

Later, I sent a chat message to a friend and told her how I was kicked out of my desk. Her reply made me realize something I had been dreading; I was being treated like dingleberry without even knowing it! For my idiocy, I will award myself a pack of tissue paper when I get the chance. (But I already got good, sweet expletives from this friend, so maybe, mocking myself would be too much.)

It's funny how, at first, I was in denial. I tried to tell myself that I was just being sensitive and that it was my huge ego being trampled on, but as minutes passed, that rationalization made less and less sense. Everyone around me thought it was weird, since she could have the spot after I'm gone. Ok, so I had to accept that I was treated unfairly and that I should have done something to uphold my dignity. The more I thought of this, the more I thought about having them (my boss and nm) chew on that desk! They made me angrier by the minute. So, I took to social media and ranted (only select few could see it, of course, although I was tempted to make it public for the world to see how unprofessional these people are). Yes, I thought this was the most appropriate response, since it would be strange to go back to my boss and nm hours later and tell them I just realized how they were being unfair. And that, you know...they had hurt my feelings (right hand clasped against left chest)!

Thanks to my friend, I learned that it was not the desk I was angry about. It was the manner in which the whole thing was done. (I don't remember them saying, please!)

See, I tendered my resignation four months ago. Employees are required to give just 30 days of notice, so I had initially planned to leave 30 days later. My boss asked, no, begged for me to stay four more months to help with the transition; my position is very important to the company, he said. I obliged. I did not really want to leave my teams in shambles. I love working with them. So, this was a win-win proposal. Now transition's over, and NM’s ready, the boss could toss me away and treat me however he wanted.

He is lucky I have always been cool-headed. And dense.

For what it's worth, I was reminded of how bad it is to be treated like that which creates a bad mess on the underwear of someone in a hurry to finish his fecal business. And how right I was to finally hand in that letter.

Ciao!