(Ok, I guess I need to explain this post, because I don't think many people "got it." I used to work in the front office of my kids' school as the Office Administrator. Recently, I moved to part-time position in the library. This piece is NOT real - it is fiction, OK? It is satire. I'm trying to exaggerate and be silly about it. Ok, so stop wondering what drug I was on when I wrote it!)
Now that I am safe within the confines of the library, I feel that I can begin to divulge some of the challenges I faced on the frontlines of the front office.
Already, my security clearance has been downgraded. I only have access to the library, the restroom, and the tiny kitchenette that serves as the staff lounge. Fine by me, since some of the things that I witnessed inside of those other rooms will fuel my nightmares for the rest of my life.
Let me begin with one of the simpler tales. As I sat at my post, I kept my eye warily on the door. At any moment, I might be faced with questions that I was unprepared to answer, or even worse, questions that I did not want to answer. But I kept my cool and continued on my mission to complete as much paperwork as possible within the 480 minutes that I was stationed at my post.
On this particular day, I was faced with the gargantuan task of placing too many confidential documents into a 3-ring-binder. I reached into the compartment above my desk to retrieve said binder, and as my finger slid against the side of the binder in order to open it, I was stopped by the feeling of my skin splitting open. This was no ordinary paper cut. This was a binder cut.
I let out a small squeal and grabbed my finger. I knew it was bad. I frantically looked around for some kleenex to stop the bleeding. (The bleeding that hadn't started yet, but I knew it would any minute.) I didn't have the courage to look at the wound at first, but I was certain it had cut all the way to the bone. I couldn't afford to pass out, so I kept the severity of the wound in the back of my head. I started to realize that even the kleenex wasn't going to do the trick.
Then it dawned on me: the bandaids! I had a stash in my desk to hand out to children who occasionally need some comfort for their little scratches. I yanked the drawer open, fumbled around until I secured a band-aid, and then tore it open so I could use it to pull my gaping pieces of flesh back together.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I managed to close the wound. I was thankful that I still had my wits about me, and that it hadn't happened to one of my co-workers. I doubt they would have been able to respond as quickly as I had.
I managed to return to work and finish my assignment, knowing that only a tiny piece of plastic was holding my damaged body together.
I faced that kind of peril every single day in that office. Now you know why I had to get out. I had to find a place that was more secure. I am still in the building, but out of harm's way for the time being.