Columnist John Katsilometes: Getting into the move groove

Monday, March 5, 2001 | 8:52 a.m.

John Katsilometes is the Sun features editor. His column appears Mondays. Reach him at kats@lasvegassun.com or 259-2327.

One weekend. Two moves.

From a condominium to a house. From a Sun Shack that leaks and creaks to a new building so bold and beautiful (a fine soap opera) it could be a Wynn resort. (Performing in the Accent Lounge throughout the week is dance sensation Dian Diaz.)

How it happens that a person concurrently uproots a home and office is the result of an unfortunate harmonic convergence (nice headline; see story at right) of flawed planning and bad luck.

To quote Al Gore: "Sigh."

No matter. Beginning today our professional world is based in Henderson (which will always be followed by "Of course," thanks to the advertising acumen of the late Ben Stepman). I sit at a new desk large enough to accommodate a game of air hockey, in a chair with so many knobs and levers that I can actually sit upside down and still remain ergonomically correct. I am able to call anyone in Pago Pago with the voice-activation feature on my new phone, and if I crick my neck toward the window at the left I have a breathtaking view of the valley -- including our new neighborhood.

Some people hate moving. Not me. Of course I hate the actual physical exertion involved, which is why I've cozied up to the steroid guys at the gym, plying them with King Creatine shakes and shots of wheatgrass juice. But the idea of living and working in one place Friday and another Monday is a real adrenaline jolt.

The office dynamics are sure to be skewed. Such routine tasks as walking to the coffee machine in the break room will become mini-adventures. Perhaps to reach Mr. Coffee you must pass the desk of a new employee you never had the chance to meet at the old Sun Shack. How many days -- weeks -- will you pass Person X before somehow gleaning his name by slyly peeking at his upside-down business card? "How's it going ... Marren?"

At the old Sun Shack I usually turned to my right to speak to my cohorts. On my left was a white wall. It'll take some reprogramming of the ol' noodle to figure out who is where in the new place. It's entirely possible that today I'll turn to my right and assign a story to a poinsettia.

Mostly I'm looking forward to the new folks I'm sure to meet at both new homes. It's likely in a month I'll drop the name of the shift manager at Applebee's across the street from our new building and a co-worker will say, "Ya gotta love that Sam."

But today I don't know "Sam" or any shift manager at Applebee's. I don't know where to find the best burrito or if the dry-cleaner up the road might be apt to scorch my ties.

I also don't know my new home neighborhood or neighbors, and thus have no idea if they would seethe at my lone bad habit -- practicing the bagpipes at dawn.

We'll have guests we don't yet know over for barbecues. I'll be driving by a furniture store that weeks from now will be a familiar sight, but at the moment I can't remember its name. Behind a big brown-and-orange sign, that's where we'll live. I'll regale the cashiers across the way at Smith's, where I've never shopped, of my exploits at work and if we won our softball game Sunday morning.

And as the cashier, maybe her name is "Tammy," hands me my receipt, I'll remind her: Change is good.