Why I’ll Never Work In An Office Again
My mental health is worth more than a foosball table.
My first office job was in the university library while I was in college. The interview took place in a well-lit meeting space on the second floor. I pictured myself showing up to work every day, surrounded by books and light and showering myself with knowledge when it was slow. It was a dream job.
When I found out I got the job, I told all of my friends just how excited I was to work at the library. I was a training assistant and would get to design training professional development courses and materials for the students and staff on campus. It checked all of my boxes for what I wanted in a campus job. I could walk there. It was relevant to my major. And it was in a “cool” space where I could thrive as a creative. I Imagined my time at work in a bright and airy office with shelves of books at my fingertips — aka what the rest of the library looked like.
I showed up on my first day and realized I had never been told where to go. The interview room was just a meeting space that anyone could use. I knew that it wouldn’t be my office specifically, but I pictured something similar. I asked the help desk, and they directed me down a flight of stairs into the basement.
