Quiet Desperation, Confessions of a State Employee...

Disclaimer: The following story is mostly fiction, though based on real events...

There she sat listening to the silence and staring at the blank walls. It wasn't as quiet as when she first started. Now she heard the sounds around her. The constant hum of the scanner, hushed conversations, the click click clicking of keyboards, and doors opening and closing, opening and closing.
Of course the blank walls weren't actually blank, or really even walls at all. They were merely cubicle separators, with tan fabric that had a bluish gray pattern across it. The same sad blue-gray color marked the edges of the walls and brought in a touch of color. Above her computer hung a calender that had been there when she arrived. This month there was a hideous picture of a chihuahua against a bubble gum pink back drop. There was also a matching pink clock that always seemed to be a little on the slow side.
She quietly stood up, because everything was done quietly here, and looked around. No one was coming, the coast was clear. She slowly pulled open her bottom desk drawer and without looking down wrapped her fingers around the new snickers bar she'd tossed in there this morning.
When she'd taken this job she didn't do it with the intention of becoming a secret snacker, it had just happened. It all started out with people constantly bringing in free goodies. Donuts, cake, candies, chex mix, pretzels, it didn't matter what it was, all that mattered was that something was there. Soon she couldn't get through a morning without a coke and some kind of pastry, or the afternoon without a mountain dew and a cupcake!
But recently that had all changed. Someone had complained. First they sent out a memo asking everyone to stop bringing in treats, then they'd sent out a petition email to get rid of the pop machines. And it worked! Now it was gone, all gone.
They hooked her and then stole it away! At first she was relieved, but after a few hours the caffeine headache set in, and she couldn't stand doing her work without something to snack on.
The next day she brought soda in a dark bottle so no one would know she was still drinking it. After that it just spiraled out of control. Now her desk drawers had turned into a pantry, with cans of pop, candy bars, and bags of chips! She loved her stash. It was the only pleasure she got from work. She loved the thrill of sneaking it in when she got there. She loved drinking pop while everyone thought she was drinking water, but more than any of that she loved to eat.
She would watch her coworkers doze at their desks while they drank their bottled water and ate their carrot sticks, but not her. She'd go back to her desk and let the anticipation build up as she held off until she couldn't stand it anymore.
Then she'd ever so quietly, because everything was done quietly here, pull open her bottom desk drawer. She'd reach in without looking down and wrap her fingers around that delicious treat she knew she deserved. And she would smile. And she would eat.

Why I'm no longer elsewhere...

Throughout my life I often wished I was somewhere else. Anywhere else. And while I was in the places I was at, I always felt I'd arrived late and was due to leave early. So I never quite settled, always feeling a little like I was momentarily floating above while looking for somewhere to land.
I have a few memories of my very early childhood, I was born in Utah and I remember the little gray house in Orem, with the pretty yellow curtains in my bedroom.
When I was four we moved to Topeka and lived in a house we called Butrums. My bedroom in that house had purple carpet. I remember we found two baby mice in the basement that we had to put outside. That is where we lived when I had the chicken pox. We didn't stay there long.
We then moved to an apartment behind what used to be called Venture. That's where I started kindergarten. That's where we lived when my sister got bit by the dog next door. Then we moved again.
This was the house on Virginia Avenue. It seemed so big and my bedroom had dark green carpet. I lived in that house longer than I've lived anywhere. It belonged to my stepfather's aunt, and so it was already furnished. I had a white canopy bed with a white bedspread that had little flowers on it. The canopy would get dust and bugs on top of it, but I loved it. It was my princess bed. I stayed there for ten years until things got really bad. I briefly lived in another apartment with my mother, then fled to Utah where I thought I'd find refuge with my father.
Most of high school took place in Spanish Fork, Utah. I remember seeing the title of a magazine article called, Home is Where the Heartache Is. I remember thinking how true that was and looking forward to the next move.
Which took place my senior year, I moved back to Kansas in a house with my grandma, grandpa, uncle, mom, two younger sisters, and three not house broken dogs. When it was time to turn in college applications I applied to schools all over, hoping to narrow down my options. When I got accepted to every school I applied to I finally decided on the one school with an open attendance policy. Who needs good grades? And I was back in Utah.
Freshman year I lived with my grandparents, which I loved, although I felt the strong pull to live "on my own".
So I moved in with five other females. Oy. I lived there for my sophomore year and half of my junior year. At that point I was terribly sick, terribly lost, terribly lonely, and terribly broken. So back to Kansas I went.
I moved in with my great-grandma and for six months did nothing but sleep and service. It was just what I needed. By that summer I was ready to come alive again. I got a job, a social life, and accepted back to my old school. Looking once again to go elsewhere. But then I found what I'd been searching for this whole time. Home. And I found it in my dear husband.
We had a whirlwind romance and all my plans changed. We got married and moved into the apartment we're living in now. And I realize I'm finally where I'm supposed to be. It's not the location, but your perspective. I'm finally home.

Explaining myself...

I say I'm declaring war on the "politically correct and intellectually inept" and I'd like to explain why. I work for the state retirement system in the records department. As of late my main job has been data entry. Entering the beneficiaries for our members should they die with money in their account. Well the most common person to put is your spouse, either your husband or wife, depending. Almost no one lists this person as their husband or wife, they usually put spouse, which I think is sad. I don't want to be my husband's spouse, I want to be his beautiful wife. This is a direct effect of everyone trying to be politically correct and not wanting to offend anyone. (eg Is a wife as good as a husband? I don't know, so we shall all just lose our gender and be a spouse.)
The intellectually inept portion comes from the fact that 20% or so of these individuals who have spouses, list them as their spouce. Oy. I don't know what that is, and frankly I don't want to know. What I do want to know is, what makes these people use a word that they can't spell, over a simple word they've been taught since elementary school? And why is this acceptable? These are state employees mind you. The people running our government offices and our schools!
Thus I declare war. I realize I have no authority to do this, nor will this war ever be won, much like the war on drugs or the war on terrorism. The reason for this is simple. There will always be someone somewhere dealing. There will always be someone somewhere plotting an attack. And there will always be a society where it is expected of us to be politically correct and acceptable to be intellectually inept.
And I'm grateful I live here. So I can write a blog about how much it bothers me.