Mixed Basket of Sorts

Our departments finally moved floors today, after months of office limbo. Having seen the floorplan a couple of weeks prior, my boss had reserved a lovely little spot for me at my request. The area was right next to a huge window, with lots of warm sunlight streaming in, a ledge I could sit on when I felt like a change, a pretty decent view of the Nile, and most importantly, copious amounts of privacy, since I would be hidden from view. 

He made sure it was mine because, and I am quoting him here, "you are one of the people whose happiness we care about."

This morning, as we were all packing our things, my desk phone rings. 

Mr. Boss Man: Eureka, I have something to say that'll upset you, but makes me happy. Please forgive me, but I have decided that it is imperative for you to be seated right in front of my and Bashful's offices.

Eureka: ... Ok, Mr. Boss Man. Whatever you say. 

I am internally saying: fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Mr. Boss Man: I'm really sorry, I know you liked your spot, but I think it's much better for you to be as near as possible. 

He apologises a little more while I reassure him that it's quite alright and I understand. 

Now, I see the positive side to this - Mr. Boss Man thinks I'm essential to the team and would like me to be nearby so we could be as productive as possible. However, I would like him to note that my original spot was no more than 7 metres away from his office. I am not kidding. 7 metres is 10 normal-spaced steps. I take largish strides, so it's more late 7 Eureka steps. Not exactly a distance worth reconsidering. 

I would further like to note that I now have zero privacy and zero natural light. I am basically thrown in the middle of a crowded corridor that will be bustling and noisy and gloomy. And everyone will be able to see exactly what is on my screen. Meaning on slow days, I will be unable to mindlessly surf the web, or play Zuma, or Luxor, or even Solitaire. I will be unable to sneak a peek at any of my shows. I will be unable to even read the news for an extended period of time, as all of this will be seen as unprofessional, unproductive, and surely lead to a reduction of my measly salary at some point. I will be unable to come and go as I please. I will be chained to my desk. I will be miserable. The free ride is over kids, now I'll have to pay my dues. 

Mr. Boss Man did not ask the Swede to be closer to his office. He also failed to ensure that my beloved Bloomberg terminal be relocated next to me; he left it next to my original spot. Now, whenever Mr. Boss Man makes a silly request like ask for chemical poo multiples, I'll have to go all the way back to my original spot, mourn its loss, work on Bloomberg, then go all the way back to my new, yucky spot. This will lead to the equivalent of a mile's walk everyday as opposed to the one trip to his office I'd have had to make per day. Wouldn't it have been so much easier for him to just leave me where I was and save me the unwanted exercise?

The Swede's been around twice as long as I have, shouldn't he be the "indispensable" one? So unfair. The unfairness outweighs the flattery I should be feeling at the moment. 

Wish I wasn't so damn impressive at bullshitting my way through my job.