Happy Saturday morning, all.
Yes, Jane...I did manage to sleep...a bit. I was awake every hour on the hour, of course, but I did sleep and I know this because of the danged dreams.
I recently had a phone conversation with my former boss, and he told me our office building was all but dark post-pandemic. We had occupied four floors, but now the GSA maintains offices on two floors, most of which go unused.
Working from home was always the goal pre-pandemic, but no one ever had the nerve to allow our folk to try it. Yes, some did on odd days, but most had a presence in the office. Now, all my former co-workers (who have not retired) are working from home.
My dreams last night were a bit fascinating, because they combined my Navy service with my County service. I found myself on a visit to Oakland and had been invited to explore the darken labyrinths of the office building. While there, I caught the attention of the "acting" director of the agency who had been the financial officer when I was working.
Kimberly (her name) asked a favor: If I was going to be in town for a week or two, would I consider helping them get the old shop back in order? Well, how flattering. But instead of it being a real estate office, it was a variation of a print shop and broadcasting facility (my Navy Public Affairs work, partially).
I told her I would be glad to help and she sent me to a different building to "sign on", as it were. I stopped at my hotel and realized I only had the one set of civilian clothes I was wearing and one set of dress whites which i had hoped to wear at the conference I had come to Oakland to attend. (No, the conference was not a military one, but it was about a story I had written, infamously, while in the military and I was asked to come speak about it).
I found myself face-to-face with familiar people in the other building, all of whom questioning why I would even consider working a week again. I shrugged and said I had always enjoyed my work and since retiring, I had the time to do what I enjoy.
I returned to the office building where I realized I had no access. There was a guard, and there were names on a list of people expected to be admitted, by my name wasn't there. I asked if I could use a phone to call the office I wanted to visit and see if someone would come down, but the guard said I was not allowed to use the phone.
A Catholic priest approached and said he knew me and would escort me. I don't know from Catholic priests, but he could have been one...or could have played one in a movie or TV show.
I was escorted to an office where forms were filled out to get me a badge I could use at the main entrance. Oddly, the person handling those forms was the same guard who had refused me entrance.
Someone else I knew walked by and expressed surprise and pleasure at seeing me. Will you be working here again? I said for a short while. How long? I don't know, I said. Maybe a week, ten days. or however long they need me.
The Catholic priest looked at me for moment and then asked what I would be doing and who had asked me back. When I told him, he said, "I have to go speak with Margo."
I asked who the priest was, and I was told he was the person I had just been hired to direct.
Oh, well. I don't know who Margo is or was.
