It hit me Friday afternoon: I am the scum of the earth.
A co-worker was laid off this week and my natural reaction was to feel terrible for the guy. He's a good person and a hard worker and the pink slip seemed to come out of the blue.
We can all empathize with what a horrible situation he's been thrown into.
Sadly, shamefully, the second thought to quickly pop into my conniving little mind was, "I wonder if I can move into his old office?"
Even sadder is the fact that I was in our human resource manager's office first thing in the morning on this guy's last day to try and stake a claim to his soon-to-be-vacated office.
Even I have to admit that is beyond being a vulture.
I'm a filthy little weasel.
A rat has more class than I do.
I aspire to be a rat.
And this isn't the first time I've sunken to this level at my current place of work.
When another co-worker left for a new job last year I was in her office within minutes of hearing about her departure to lobby for some of her office swag.
I came out of that one with a new chair, printer, keyboard and some nasty looks from people who waited a little too long to move in for a piece of the pie.
But for some strange, twisted reason I just can't help myself from lusting after a new office. I blame all my years working in a newsroom for this reprehensible character flaw.
In a newsroom, a desk to call your own is a precious thing and you have to move fast to claim your territory.
If you're a little too polite and wait a little too long you get to spend every night wandering around the room like a hobo trying to find a place to work.
But if you park your rump at someone's desk as soon as they walk out out of the newsroom on their last day of work and start putting up framed pictures of family and pets as quickly as possible, then you're well on your way to finally having a place to call home.
Clearly, I'm far from alone in trying to capitalize on turnover at work but I am far more tasteless about it than anyone else I know.
All I can do is sit back and hope karma doesn't even the score with me anytime soon.
But if I do get my comeuppance in the near future I won't begrudge anyone who swoops in to snag my office, my chair, my printer or anything else of value that I leave behind.
When you're a weasel who aspires to be a rat it's hard to give the vultures a bad time.