By day, I work in the corporate world. Most days I’m not really sure what I do, though. I guess I resource humans or something–specifically, I administer their benefits and things and stuff.
Truthfully, it’s not a bad gig. It isn’t hard, it pays well, and I have my very own office. (It’s an inner office, of course, sans windows or anything else interesting to look at. But it’s mine, right?) And in my little piece of corporate real estate I have boxes and boxes of old files waiting to be archived into the digital age.
(Oh yeah, archiving has become my resourcing humans project, too.)
Anyway, these files are old. Most of them predate me–“me” as in, my entire life. And they smell a bit musty and dusty, although I’m pleased to say that I’ve finally gotten used to it. Now that I think about it, though, maybe that’s why I seem to be allergic to my office!
Sometimes I need to flip through a file to find specific details regarding someone’s employment and I’ve honestly found this task to be fascinating. It’s fascinating because I get to see accounts of things that happened in the lives of people who were living their lives before I was even a possibility and who may or may not be alive any longer. I see marriage licenses for young employees and birth certificates for children who are now closing in on retirement themselves. I see loan documents for first homes. I see attendance records showing vacations taken.
These files may not be remarkable history, but they’re real history.