Hey. HEY!

I think that now would be a good time to tell you about the desk arrangement at my work. It's only natural. And heaven knows you've been pleading for these juicy details for AGES.

I work in an office. I am a secretary/receptionist-person. When you walk into our office, you will face a very uninteresting wall. It has a painting on it in faded colors featuring some kids sailing in a boat. To your right is Maggie's desk: a large, tall, L-shaped affair that looks very official. To your left is my desk: a normal, short desk. I am tucked very neatly into a corner, perhaps too neatly: people never see me. Never. I mean, after someone comes in and gawks around a bit, they'll see me after a while. But I cannot tell you how many times I hear, "Oh! I didn't see you there!" in a four-hour period.

Anyway. When you walk into our office, your first instinct will be to lean your elbows onto Maggie's desk and wait patiently/impatiently for her to notice you. Sometimes she will, sometimes she won't--both of which will sometimes be on purpose. Now, my desk is where it is so that I can pull the "traffic" away from Maggie so that she can do more important things while I answer questions like, "I want to declare my major, do I do that here?" and "Where's the weight room?" and "Do you have a band-aid?" Tedious drivel, I know, but I take my due pride in answering with a smile and a perky "You're welcome!" I know it seems a little... lame... but if I don't do this, I feel judged, like I'm not doing my job and I'm a lazy employee (I'm not--in case you were on the fence about it).

So, while Maggie is deciding whether or not she's going to notice the poor chap hovering at her desk, I have to call out, "Can I help you?" or "Are you looking for someone?" or "Do you have a question?" I'm almost always saying this to someone's backside. If the person hears me, there are two reactions (and only two): 1) he or she is surprised and smiles, like I am some kind of treat/ played a joke on them, or 2) he or she jumps and is actually startled and looks at me like I've tried to slip my hand in their pocket and retrieve their wallet. While neither of these reactions make my heart overflow with goodwill, they are both preferable to when he or she does not hear me.

Not hearing me, by the way, is totally ridiculous. Our office holds a steady decibel level about on par with a mausoleum. It's not like there's sooo much going on; if someone breathes heavily, all heads turn. So anyway, someone doesn't hear me: Sometimes they think that it was Maggie who said something to them, and they leave their elbows on her desk and say, "Uh yeah, I need to ask someone about internships." At this point Maggie either helps them or continues to ignore them and I am left to repeat myself and bleat out, "Um, CAN I HELP YOU?!!?!" After such a display of projection prowess, he or she generally turns around and then reacts in one of the two ways discussed.

But sometimes, they still don't hear. I cannot understand this. They must be choosing to ignore me (those jerks!). I only repeat myself twice and then I say things like, "Hey. Hey!" Sometimes I don't even get to the "heys." I'm too demoralized.

The absolute worst is when I go through the whole process of shouting at them like I'm hailing a taxi, pull out the "heys," and when they finally hear me and ask their question, it is in fact something I cannot answer and they have to talk to Maggie anyway. The WORST. After an episode like that, I just drag my poor, hoarse self over to the candy drawer (it's along the wall opposite of my desk) and bury my troubles in fun-sized Milky Way bars.