Half_Full

Long Time In Waiting Draft It’s almost as instantaneous as saying “ouch” when you hurt yourself. I am the type of person that sees the glass half empty not half full. It’s something I can’t control no matter how hard I try to change. As soon as I am faced with a new environment or situation I immediately scan the room and find things that make me different from the norm. My eyes act like a magnifying glass picking up every little detail, my hair is a different colour to hers and she has a gold ring. This is what I face every day when I arrive at work. To you it probably seems as if I am the new employee finding it difficult to fit in with the old secretary that looks as if she has been there since she was that young blonde just out of high school. However this is not the case I have worked here for the past eleven years and can tell you the exact place of every piece of furniture in the room. The place hasn’t changed one bit. The old now out dated computers are still struggling with each day that passes and the carpet is the colour of bright oranges that was popular in the sixties. It is all still here yet I have never felt that feeling of being home. * * * * * The day begins as normal. I dress in ordinary black pants and a blouse. You know the type where the collar is so stiff it won’t if bend or sit properly. I take the same road everyday straight up 53rd and a quick left into Eddy Ave. Before I even reach the building where I’ve worked for the last eleven years my hands begin to tremble. The fear is indescribable. As I lock the car the keys slip out of my shaky hands. It feels just like my first day of high school the feeling of the unknown. I walk past the girls at the reception as I say “morning” without making direct eye contact for the fear of them realising who I am. A quick nod and wave to the mailman before I turn in to my workstation. I am absolutely swamped today, we have the annual report due for all the suppliers in the country. I will barely have time to go the loo let alone have lunch. Over the ferocious tapping of the keyboards I hear the whispering of many voices. The paranoid person I am makes me begin to come to irrational conclusions about what I have done to cause such chatter. I lift my head slowly in hope that no one will notice. “SURPRISE!” My eyes begin to fill with tears as I notice the mailman carrying a birthday cake. Surround by my many colleagues. Today is my birthday and I thought this year would be like the many others. The fact that they would go out of their way on the busiest day of the year just for me is overwhelming. All those times I purposely walked with my head looking down and avoided attending lunches and work parties, and to think of what I have been missing out on. A smile immediately replaces my face of shock and anguish. I rise from my seat and take the long few steps to where the mailman is, or should I say Greg as I read his badge. I embrace him in a hug and murmur “Thank You.” He replies with the most sweetest words I have ever heard, “You’re more than welcome.” For the feeling of being at home with family. These people are not just my colleagues they are my friends. * * * * * The day begins as normal I dress in ordinary black pants and a blouse. I take the same road everyday straight up 53rd and a quick left into Eddy Ave. Before I even reach the building where I work, the excitement is overwhelming, soon I will be surrounded by my friends. My foot presses down on the accelerator as I struggle to contain my self. As I quickly dash out of the car I swiftly return and barely manage to lock the door before I hurry to the lift. It’s the first time in years I’ve been early to work. On my way in I stop and to chatter to Linda and Mandy at the reception. Greg comes and joins our conversation about the amazing time we all had at karaoke on Friday night. The conversation continues until we are unable to see each other as we take our seats and begin the day’s work, however we are constantly popping our head over to tell each other our plans for the up and coming Christmas party. Can I Get That Half Full Please' It’s almost as instantaneous as saying “ouch” when you hurt yourself. I am the type of person that sees the glass half empty not half full. It’s something I can’t control. No matter how hard I try to be positive I always see the worst. As soon as I am faced with a new environment or situation I immediately scan the room and find things that make me different from the norm. My eyes act like a magnifying glass picking up every little detail, my hair is a different colour to hers and she is wearing a gold ring. This is what I face every day when I arrive at work. To you it probably seems as if I am the new employee. Finding it difficult to fit in with the old secretary that looks as if she has been there since she was the gorgeous young blonde just out of high school. However this is not the case. I have worked here for the past eleven years and can tell you the exact place of every piece of furniture in the room. The place hasn’t changed one bit. The old now out dated computers are groaning every time you ask them to turn on. The carpet is still the colour of bright florescent oranges that was popular in the sixties. It is all still here yet I have never felt the feeling of being home. * * * * * Half Empty The day begins as normal. I dress in ordinary black pants and a blouse. You know the type where the collar is so stiff it won’t even bend or sit properly. I drive the same road everyday straight up 53rd and a quick left into Eddy Ave. Before I even reach the building where I’ve worked for the last eleven years my hands begin to tremble. The fear is indescribable. As I lock the car the keys slip out of my shaky hands. It feels just like my first day of high school the feeling of the unknown. I walk past the girls at the reception as I say “Good Morning” without making direct eye contact for the terror of them realising who I am. A quick nod and wave to the mailman before I turn to my workstation. I am absolutely swamped today. We have the annual report due for all the suppliers in the country. I will barely have time to go the loo let alone have lunch. Over the ferocious tapping of the keyboards I hear the whispering of many voices. The paranoia makes me begin to come to irrational conclusions about what I have done to cause such chatter. I lift my head slowly in hope that no one will notice. “SURPRISE!” My mouth drops and my eyes begin to fill with tears as I notice the mailman carrying a birthday cake. Surround by many of my colleagues singing Happy Birthday. A smile immediately replaces the shocked look on my face. I rise from my seat and take the few long steps to where the mailman is, or should I say Greg as I read his name badge. I embrace him in a hug and murmur “Thank You.” He replies with the sweetest words I have ever heard, “It’s our pleasure.” To think all this time I have felt like a lone sheep when I have been surround by these people the entire time, is overwhelming. * * * * * Half Full The day begins as normal. I dress in flattering black pants with a speck of silver and a blouse that gathers at the waist. I drive along 53rd and a quick left into Eddy Ave the same as everyday. Before I even reach the building where I work, the excitement is overpowering; soon I will be surrounded by my friends. My foot leans on the accelerator as I struggle to contain my enthusiasm. As I quickly dash out of the car I forget to lock the doors and swiftly return just managing to align the key with the lock before rushing to the elevator. It’s the first time in years I’ve been early to work. On my way in I stop to chatter to Linda and Mandy at the reception desk. It is not long before Greg comes and joins our conversation about the amazing time we all had at karaoke on Friday night. The conversation continues until we are unable to see each other as we take our seats and begin the day’s work. Throughout the day we are constantly looking over the petition tell each other our plans for the up and coming Christmas party.