Someone sat at my desk while I was out of the office. I could tell due to several things. I'm kind of OCD, so I always know when something's off. The first indication that I had was that my chair was pushed off to the side instead of under the keyboard, where it usually is. Well, maybe the janitor moved it to vacuum. Possibly.
But then I saw all the grit on my desk. That used to happen at my old desk but only because they were building a new office literally a half a foot away from that desk. No such thing happened this time. I'm OK with others using my desk while I'm not there, but fucking clean up after yourself.
And then I noticed the cardinal sin. Whoever it was put their drink down on my pad of paper. The very pad of paper that I had a bunch of stuff written on. I'd written that stuff down because it was fucking important. It was a list of sales leads I intended to follow up on, now smudged and tacky because of the goddam sweat ring that beverage left behind. That's just fucking inexcusable.
At this job? I have never sat at someone else's desk. At other jobs? Sure. And when I sat at those desks, I touched only the things necessary to doing my job, and I put those things back the way I found them. If I messed anything up, I cleaned it up. What the fuck kind of scumbag does this kind of thing?
Yeah, I'm frustrated. But at least it's Friday. Which means tomorrow will feel like a slow and agonizing death, but it's the last of my trials and tribulations before I have a day off.
Jesus fuck.
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