Dreaming big

When a man said his goodbyes to the office, he brought a gift. A relic from another time, the gift was a thick hunk of iron caked with dirt and rust. Despite its age and condition, the words "THOR" could still be easily read across its surface. The object could have passed for the weapon of the Nordic God but the hunk of iron had a more humble but still interesting existence.

The man explained this mysterious object was a part of an old-timey appliance that would wash dishes and clothes. It was unearthed at one of the laboratory's technical areas and when a former employee was saying his goodbyes, the machine part was gifted to the office. Now with another federal government employee making his exit, the present was being "re-gifted." 

This story sticks  with me as one of my favorites from working as an admin. I really like the machine part, not only because it has a great name or because it was given with such wonderful intentions, but due to the fact that this cast-away machine part and I share something in common. 

We're both misfits.  Who knew that a journalist and an old washer part would find themselves in a sterile government office?  Still, while "THOR" may be content to live the rest of its days propped up on a bookshelf in a windowless cubicle, I can't seem to stop myself from fantasizing about the day I leave and not come back. I can picture the telephone ringing and me picking up the receiver to learn I've been given the chance to work full-time as a reporter. I imagine myself letting out a huge whooping noise and then merrily slinging my government badge far, far away. 

I thought this dream separated me from my office co-inhabitants. But listening to the employee say his goodbye made me realize just how wrong I am. Everyone in there yearns for something bigger and better in their lives whether it is to move to Oakridge, Tenn., for a job promotion or to live by the river in Salida, Colo., grow a ponytail and drink beer. 

This realization was perhaps the best gift of all - it is comforting to know you are not so alone or a cast-away misfit.