Kimberlee K.

We all work different jobs with different stresses, different demands, different highs and different lows. And while in a general sense, we can find ways to relate to each other, there are some things we just can’t explain. Moments of frustration and joy that, with backstory and context we can bring someone halfway, but never fully express how deep or wide it goes.

For example, I got a new heat sealer the other day.

I package a lot of small parts in plastic bags and depending on the quantity of a specific part being shipped, I can be standing and sealing for hours at a time. Sometimes double sealing, sometimes *creative* sealing parts that are a particularly odd shape. And a heat sealer, predictably, can get HOT.

I’ll often put my hair up or take off my jacket. I might do a lap and stretch my neck because it gets sore from looking down. And recently, as the sealer that has been around longer than most of the office employees, including myself, started to glitch, I had to push hard to make the seal airtight. So on top of sweating, stretching, and going a little stir crazy, sometimes I was going home with cramps in my hand, and aches in my shoulder.

And while I know that what I do is not as hard as what other people do—they are astronauts in actual space, doctors performing brain surgery, teachers containing hordes of kindergarteners, and stay at home parents doing IT ALL—there are some days that are harder than others.

So I bought a new heat sealer.

And when it came, I marveled at the way she sparkled and shined. I showed her off like she was a diamond ring or a new car.

“LOOK AT HER!!!”

She didn’t immediately overheat, she didn’t require I tighten my core to make a successful seal, she wasn’t scratched or squeaky or covered in oil (yet).

It was a niche work joy.

A few weeks ago, I was typing up an order and preparing to print a shipping label. The website we use had long been glitching and I’d grown used to taking a deep breath before logging on, never knowing what I was going to get.  Sometimes it refused to schedule a pickup, forcing me to call the help number and schedule it manually, to varying degrees of ease. Other times it spooled continuously after I typed in my log in credentials, until I figured out the exact rhythm of pressing log in + refresh + enter that somehow got it to load. Sometimes it more or less shrugged its shoulders like IDK, SORRY.

But then one day I logged on (on the first try!) and found an entirely new website, with new features, better organization and no spooling. I audibly gasped in delight and just fidgeted with it for a few minutes before continuing on with printing my label.

It was a niche work joy.

In the grand scheme of things, they are small. Heck, compared to the rest of a hectic work day they might be small. But they are not nothing.

And while I might never be able explain the oomph they have to someone outside my company, or even someone outside my exact job, that doesn’t make the moments any less joyful. It just makes them a little more niche, and in a way, I kind of like that even more. Like it’s a gift just for me.