Flight not Fight

If I had my way, I would never set foot in the main office ever again. 
But alas, sometimes I just have to.

I sneak in at about noon to print off some documents, only to have Ex-Army Man spy me. He comes over and harrumphs noisily at my shoulder, forcing me to take note of him.

Ex-Army Man has (appropriately) been put in charge of our impending office move. As one might imagine, this is bringing out all his most military characteristics and as I turn to face him, I have to struggle not to salute him.

With much portentous shuffling of papers, drawing of diagrams, and posturing in ramrod style, Ex-Army Man advises me that our interim home for the next month (we are being forced out prematurely, due to the drilling noises from below) will be on the floor above, but that sadly there will not be space for a desk for me. Could I please remain in my own satellite office for the foreseeable future?

O joy! O rapture !!
I have a legitimate excuse not to come over to the Town Hall !!!

I could bleat about the fact that I have been singled out - but I don't.
I could explain that this will make it harder to deliver my work programme - but I don't.
I could say LOTS of things - but I don't.

I just agree.

Later on, while I am still sitting in the main office, New Boss appears briefly at the far end. I keep my head down and focus on my work, and he disappears again without bothering me.

I could tap on his door, and politely request once again that he refer me to Occupational Health - but I don't.

For the time being, I will reduce my Situational Anxiety by the simple method of not triggering it in the first place. By fleeing back to my Safe Zone and relinquishing the fantasy that my employers are going to offer me support.

Because in this instance, Discretion is most certainly the better part of Valour.