I have a reputation in the office and it’s a beige flag of mine, I suppose.
It’s not something damaging or harmful, but it’s also not something that makes people like me more.
I have a messy desk, hectic even, but it’s messy in two ways.
The actual mess and the organised chaos.
The actual mess, I have no excuse for; people should just ignore the Kit-Kat wrappers and empty Coca-Cola cans.
But the rest of my mess has a story; some items even have a purpose.
I’ve got my three office plants — Sally, Richard and Bruiser — all of which I love.
Sticky notes with drawings from a colleague and a tiny little fake plant from a different colleague.
My Australian Firefighters calendar and diary, which, of course, was bought only for charity and productivity. (It remains untouched.)
I’ve got a little crotchet frog made by a friend and a little highland cow plush toy someone bought me.
On the wall, I’ve got about 15 Polaroids of the people and places I love and memories I want to keep.
I’ve got even more sticky notes with kind notes my work friends have left me to cheer me up.
Under my monitors, I’ve got a moss ball, which is surprisingly still alive, and a gem bracelet a previous journalist left me.
I have blackberry jam someone made me and a tissue box, which has ‘property of Djembe’ written on it.
A stack of newspapers sits to my right, and my notebooks and stationery sit on my left.
My pen holder is one I made in Scotland; my mouse pad has a good friend’s art printed on it; and my mug was made by a friend from a previous job.
So, to my work colleagues who point out the mess.
My desk is full of stuff, there’s no denying that, but it is also full of memories and people I love.
So mind your business.
Djembe, xoxo.
P.S. If you think my desk is bad, please don’t look at my car or bedroom. You may die of shock.