THREE WEEKS TO GO

A few drones appear to have flown over the office at the weekend completely re-arranging our workplace layout. Some might say for the better as magically the room visually appears much larger just by having moved a few desks and filing cabinets. It’s amazing what a simple re-shuffle can do to increase available space.

However, it seems the music on the furniture merry-go-round stopped leaving me almost without a chair to sit on. My desk has been shoe-horned into the ‘Billy no-mates’ corner, a space so cramped that I’m considering changing my name to Sara Dean (sardine). It’s a desk with a view of our customer car park since it’s now right by the window. Whilst that might sound idyllic to some peeps, having sat in a chilly draught all morning I can assure you it’s not. No doubt when the low springtime sun re-appears, it’ll be like working under an interrogation spotlight.

The plastic desk bubble I’d desperately clung onto since Covid gone. How will I keep everyone’s germs out now? Thanks to a daily cocktail of vitamin supplements I’d successfully gotten through those winter months carefully dodging all the coughs, sniffles and squeaky bum episodes brought in by the hoi polloi but without my plastic protector, I may as well be wearing a ‘party here’ badge inviting all microbes round for a intimate tete-a-tete chez moi.

Thank goodness I’ve only three weeks of viral exposure and chilblains left to endure. If I hadn’t already handed in my notice, this definitely would have been the final straw.

Mrs Fannypack's survival tips for cold office workers