Like most of my recent work experiences, the work-spaces at my latest assignment are so-called flex-spaces. In theory this means you can sit at any desk in the building, although in reality each team has a number of desks assigned to them. It makes sense to sit together, after all, especially because despite the high level of computerisation we still work with paper files.
The main area of my team consists of two rows facing each other separated by an aisle. That is, there is a block of six - three facing three - then an aisle and then a block of four - two facing two. Although nominally flex-spaces, in reality people like to sit at the same desk. Another complication is that three of the ten computers on those desks are not suited to run certain programs which are necessary for the actual production - these are therefore generally used by our team leader and by technical support people.
Today I found myself on the corner of the six-desk block, on the most exposed corner, to be precise. (Don't ask how this one can be more exposed than the others, it just is.)
I don't know if you recall, but I have blogged about my tapping-habit before. Not tap dancing, but tapping things with my fingers. Like the desk in front of my keyboard just before I start to type, or - and this was a particularly pleasing one - at my previous job the metal wastebasket with a shiny dome, or any flat surface - desk, side of a cupboard - that I walk by.
As it turns out I am not alone. One of my colleauges has walked by at least four times today, tapping the corner of my desk (I told you it was exposed) as he passed. At first I was going to say something, not to criticise him, but to recognise him as a kindred spirit; but I'm afraid it may still be taken the wrong way. I know if I were told such a thing I would suspect they were not really happy with me.
And I don't think I am ready to seriously commit to changing my tapping ways yet...