Friday, February 11, 2011

This One’s for Caryl

Fridays around here are right “up there” on the crazy scale. It’s not enough that a flock of creatives are crammed into a corner of the third floor day in and day out with no sunshine for inspiration; we have to use Friday as our excuse to cut loose a little.

Just now, for example, I received an e-mail from one of my favorite people. The text of the e-mail? “Dork.” And this from the guy whose office is covered with retro toys from our childhood. I’m a dork? He dropped by shortly after sending the e-mail. He touched the nameplate outside my door and said, “I have a hunch that someday, this will say ‘Beth Blair, Dork Extraordinaire.’ Because that rhymes.”

Really. Who’s a dork? But his smile is contagious and I beam at him as he turns and saunters back to his toy chest. Good times.

Sure enough, Friday is peppered (more than usual) with folks shouting over cubicle walls, peals of laughter coming from AV (those guys sure have fun), and even the occasional rubber band shot or paper wad batted into someone else’s domain. One designer has been known to drag out his putter and practice his swing down the hallway. The copy editors gather around their table to scoff at the latest ridiculous demand from whomever. The graphics folks tentatively venture outside the safety of their area to see what all the commotion is. The traffic folks join in with rousing renditions of their lives outside the building. And that one print buyer comes by and chastises us, jokingly reminding us that he’s a company man. Before long, it’s a party, and there’s really no reason to get back to work.

So, blinded by their rationalization that the boss won’t notice, one by one they slip away a little early, back home to their families and their real lives, where deadlines and rush jobs don’t take precedence. For two days, they won’t think about this place, and I’ll try not to think about them. But they’re just as much a part of me as my own family. And I love them all.

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