My office is actually in the renovated garage (or maybe carriage house; it's hard to tell) of an old home. That's a good thing; I like working in what feels more like a home than an industrial complex.
There are only about 10 of us in this little outbuilding, back behind the main public relations office (which is in the ACTUAL former house, with various staff members occupying rooms that were clearly once used as dens, living rooms, bedrooms, even a sunroom). That's a good thing, too; I like being part of a small, insular group, and I like being able to shout out my door to my coworkers when I run into a problem.
But here's the bad thing. Here, in fact is the worst thing about my new job: Our little renovated garage has a little one-person bathroom. That little one-person bathroom shares a wall with my boss's office. And that wall? Has no soundproofing. At all.
Now, that's bad enough under normal circumstances: I've been in his office when someone is using that bathroom, and...oh, dear. There's just so much that's wrong with knowing quite that much about the bathroom sounds your colleagues make, y'know?
But now imagine heading toward that bathroom and hearing someone call to your boss, "Hey, J, CNN's on line one for you."
Yeeeeeah. I'd rather explode than be responsible for Christiane Amanpour overhearing anything even vaguely resembling the sound of tinkling. (OK, OK, the chances that it was Christiane Amanpour on the phone are slim to none. But still. Ew.)
I like this job, but it might just kill me.