Bitch Desk

Three meetings, all at once. About 8 people in each meeting, all meeting with vendors (average three people). And who has to take care of them all? Me. Yes, the sheer joys of Office Bitch.

Every office has one, the poor receptionist sitting at the front desk, sitting at the bitch desk. Forgotten, taken advantage of, bossed around. The office lowly because no one is lower than the bitch desk simply because O.B. is the one who stands mindlessly at the copier making copys for clients who'll immediately forget that someone made the massive amounts of copies they hold in their hands. Why do they forget, simple ... they have other shit to concern themselves with. Forget the help, its usually how it goes.

Three meetings, all going on at once. All vendors walk through the front door, introduce themselves. Oddly enough, with three meetings going on, I have no idea who goes where; nevermind knowing as to why. So I ask questions, figuring out who should be accomodated for which meeting. I'm never told whose showing up, just the amount. But key info will tell me, and when it does, I tell them it'll be a minute. At that moment, I'm forgotten. They do their idle chit chat in the adjacent waiting area, oblivious to he/she behind the desk. Oblivious that it is one person accomodating them, let alone accomodating the numerous others in the same room.

All this all the while expected to do ones daily duties.

The sheer joys of the bitch desk; the one immediately seen at the front door, the one immediately forgotten.



Signed,

O.B.