So while I was away from work, I moved desks, apparently.
I have mixed feelings: I'm extremely glad I missed the chaos-morning of the entire office swapping desks at once. (That is how we do it for some reason.) However, I'm also cramped into a smaller space, and I'm not yet certain I've got my monitors positioned to avoid eye-strain or neck-crick. Welcome to Desk Eight.
There's another consequence too. I'm suddenly in a world where I have to restrain myself from saying anything. It's good practice - I don't want to be commenting on possible reasons why Tim's cats might be grumpy, or what you're supposed do with a remote contractor in Greece. I don't want to overhear process conversations and I don't particularly enjoy knowing the answers to questions that are launched into the ether while also realising that answering them drags me into conversations I'd rather avoid.
As a result, I'm sitting here listening, and practising the art of self-control.
"Where can I find the list of languages we support in OCR?" asks someone. Ether, question, float.
(I know where that list is because I wrote it.) But I am not interrupting; I don't wish to be an interloper until I'm invited into these chats. And anyway, seven times out of ten I've misunderstood it anyway. Never interrupt a conversation unless you understand it.
"Er, maybe we can pull it from the config file?" suggests someone else. Good idea.
Meanwhile, Winners (all the way from Zimbabwe) suggested via WhatsApp that I bring in some bubbles to lighten the mood. I love that idea - the phantom bubble blower. The world would be much better if the air was filled with bubbles instead of questions. Though it'd be obvious it was me in the end, wouldn't it.
"I wonder what the help says," wonders the person opposite me, knowing I'm both in earshot and responsible for writing 'the help', "It's bound to be full of really useful, helpful information." Pointed.
I think I might put my headphones on.
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