Being a lowly contractor, I can�t get my desk reserved online for three weeks at a time like everyone else. Instead, I have to call the Friday before and hope like all heck that my preferred seat is still available.

The company is currently in the process of shutting down two entire floors in my building, so everyone who�s able to reserve their seats three weeks in advance is seeing that my space is available and nabbing it. I haven�t sat in my desk in two weeks, and I�m getting tired of it.

I started the day off by squatting in C-Dogg�s desk with hopes that whoever was assigned to it wouldn�t be around. Three minutes after I set up my laptop and got everything locked in and settled, Mister Man with the fancy-schmancy desk reservation comes waltzing into work. Usurping bastard.

So I unlock my laptop, load up my bag, and sloth my way over to my assigned seat on the other side of the floor to what has got to be the worst desk around.

The first thing I notice is that there�s a 17-inch monitor exactly where I want to put my laptop. This monitor weighs as much as I do, but I manage to scoot it a millimeter at a time across the desk, giving me a little more room to put my laptop down and give my elbows some resting room.

In addition to the monitor taking up all of my space, there are a bunch of computer manuals stacked around me. Although I�m glad to see that someone kept all of the blood, sweat, and tears that one tech writing put into documenting Visual Basic v6 Web Development and Lotus Domino Designer 5, I want no part in this. Get your shit off the desk, please.

More proof that this desk area is well lived in is apparently by the phone�s cord being all wrapped up and twisted. Its contortions show that the desk�s usual resident doesn�t have similar neuroses as yours truly, as things like a twisted up phone cord drive me bananas (as do things like bathroom hand towels being out of place, picture frames being off-center, and couches set asymmetrically in rooms). I�ve unplugged and untwisted the phone cord four times today, but it keeps finding its way back to the curly-q its usual owner doesn�t mind.

One minor bitch: there�s no recycle bin. Whereas I deal with no papers all day long and have nothing to recycle, this bin is very important. What else can I prop my feet on? (Hmmm... Maybe that�s what all these manuals are for?)

All day long I�ve been shivering like a bald polar bear from the A/C vent right on top of me. I had to make a James Bond move for my old desk to nab my fleece while the desk�s current occupant took his two-hour lunch. I had to sacrifice the gnome, as there is only so much a girl can carry with her to the other side of the building without raising suspicion.

Despite all of this bitch-worthy junk, there�s one redeeming piece of flair.

One desk last week had a bunch of Jesus-y motivational sayings printed out and pinned to the wall. Ya know, Life is fragile. Handle with prayer kinda BS.

The single piece of color in this desk�s area is a button that says, �I am irreplaceable� on it. Whereas this would rank as kitschy-koo as that poster of a kitten clinging to the tree with his claws that says, �Hang in there,� the guy marked through the ir in irreplaceable.

The only thing that would make this better is if it had an exclamation mark at the end.

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