The Third Floor Dwellers

Yesterday I got reamed at work for not having a particular project completed. This project involves moving approximately 3700 boxes full of documents from our warehouse vendor, Iron Mountain, to a room we designed downstairs full of racks of shelving. The boxes supposedly weigh 30-40 pounds but I think that is a low estimate for some of them. I am supposed to order the boxes from the warehouse, review their contents, and somehow fit them all onto the shelves, and data enter the descriptions, destruction dates, etc into the nifty new system we got. I cannot explain to you how the shelving is set up, but I can say that it is designed for maximum occupancy, not ease of use. It is –really- difficult to put the boxes on the shelves (particularly since I can’t reach high enough and still don’t have a ladder) and it is even more difficult to remove things from the shelves when someone needs them. And if you don’t know me in person, I might add that I am a rather tiny person. I’m 5’4” and weigh 110 lbs on a layered clothing day. I’m not really built to be lifting hundreds of boxes a day although I have to say I’m now in better shape than ever. (Mental note: is this why my arm is still twitching?)

Anyway, yesterday they tell me they are upset that this project isn’t completed. I tell them to clone me because I cannot do all the things that are a part of my daily functions –and- spend an entire day moving boxes. Their response is to give me an April 1st deadline. I know that this is sincerely not possible at all. Even if I didn’t do any other work and just lifted boxes all day long for the rest of the month, I don’t think that the warehouse has the means to deliver all the boxes to my office in such a short time. Also, I’m taking about a week of vacation at the end of the month and we still aren’t allowed to work overtime. Regardless, I will attempt to do my best.

This morning I loaded up the big blue cart thing with boxes to take downstairs. I took about 4 loads of boxes (one was a half load because I stole a small ladder from the records room and hid it between the boxes on the cart so that I could maybe, just maybe reach the higher shelves). On my final trip back upstairs with the cart a lady from the third floor gets on the elevator with me. At this point, I am tired and sweaty. I’m listening to my iPod which if I was someone looking at me I would take as a hint towards no conversation. She does not.

[her]: So, are you going to have a good day?
[me, as I gesture down at the cart]: Of course, it’s only 8 something in the morning and I’m already doing this.
[her]: Ah, you’re already out with your little friend.

I think for a moment here and realize she is referring to the cart. I then have the urge to stab her in the eyeball for making such a stupid comment so early in the morning. Realizing the repercussions of this, I just stare at her instead.

It’s only 9 am and this is the direction my day is already headed.