Office Jobs in Rwanda

 This article was written and published anonymously as part of the Confessions of San Francisco series. They are written by real residents who would never have dared to put their signature under the revelations.

“I hate my colleagues, but they don’t know about it,” writes the author of this material.

At 10 pm, just as I was getting ready to jump into bed and play an episode of The Office, I got a message on Slack. I know I should have turned off notifications, but I can't - I jerk too much when I see a bunch of messages, so it's easier to read them as they come in.

This message was from a salesperson at a startup I work for, let's call him Greg. Greg can be described in one word - a whiner, he is constantly annoyed by something, and he does not hesitate to tell me about it. You see, as an office manager, I have a responsibility to grit my teeth and satisfy every little bit of his — or other employees’s — whims in gratitude for options and health insurance.

Typically, Greg's requests are for specific whey protein in the office, but this request was different. The message included a photo of a toilet full of shit.

You might be wondering how I answered. In response, I took a pill of clonazepam (a tranquilizer used for epilepsy and panic attacks), signed up for a free test subscription to Headspace (a meditation app) and decided I would deal with the situation in the morning.

Despite the shocking visual content and late times, this is not the only time shit becomes the leitmotif. In fact, my whole story is about him. I am constantly pulled from my workplace (for which I do a financial statement for $ 250,000, planning an office event to be forced to attend, raking with a schedule for managers or other tasks) so that I can wash the shit behind someone.

It's not that people come up to me and say, “Hey, I just put the maggot in the men's room, can you figure it out? Thank you "(although they really can and so). Helpful tip for people in the tech world (and beyond): The modern pressure flush toilets, so loved in Silicon Valley, take a while to replenish their flush reserves. So if you walk into a stall right after someone and now your vegan waste is not flushed away, then chances are good that the toilet is not broken - it just isn't ready to flush yet.

Instead of assimilating this simple but important information, people turn to me so that I can flush after them in the toilet. It is also worth noting that the booths  Office Jobs in Rwanda are equipped with cleaners, and if necessary, employees can use them to eliminate clutter in the toilet on their own, but they still prefer to shift it to me. Like a child waiting for his parents to wipe his ass.

Working as an office manager in Silicon Valley is hard and thankless. It lowers my self-esteem more than anything I can think of.

But the more important takeaway is that the culture of high-tech companies that provide abundant perks cultivates a shocking level of employee demand in my opinion. They can be so incredible that the administrative staff simply cannot satisfy them.

The infantilization of technical staff that I see day after day is worrying. At the same time, it is inevitable when all household issues are resolved for them: food and snacks are prepared for them, the dirty plates that they leave behind them magically disappear, as do the divorces of their free kombucha all over the floor.

It's this environment that makes people think it's okay to send an office manager a photo of human excrement at 10pm, thus ruining him the only time to relax and watch the show.

I didn't plan on becoming an office manager, and neither did Pam Beasley, the heroine of The Office. I do not see my purpose in this, at least I hope that this is not it. In a past life, I was an academic, a beggar and a tortured intellectual, struggling to make my way to a doctorate in the heart of coastal liberalism.

After 4 years of sitting in seminars where people snagged with each other, and prefixes like "post-post-chtototam" were common, I decided to embark on more creative endeavors. In order to have the luxury of writing thoughtful essays in the style of Sarah Vovel (journalist, publicist, historian), of course, I needed a job from 9 to 5. So I went to work in this startup, somehow convincing them that we fit together. And here I am.

https://jiji.co.rw/office-jobs