Cube Food

One annoying thing about working in Cube City is that really hungry people are lurking there. Over the years, hungry cube dwellers have examined my lunch on display in the kitchen during the preparation process and have given me all sorts of unsolicited commentary:

• What is that? (hungry people who lack a cultural relationship with food)
• Why would you eat THAT? (picky hungry people)
• Are you sure that's edible? (skeptical hungry people)
• That is TOO HEALTHY! (hungry people who are afraid of baby carrots and greens)
• That looks delicious! (long uncomfortable pause as they wait for a bite that I'm not going to offer because, well, I can't realistically spare a bite of anything that delicious)

Of course, these are the same hungry people who would eat anything free at work. If you want to get rid of food, just take it to work and *poof!* It will magically disappear.

What is it like in your Cube City kitchen?

I Need a Decoy

Why do things blow up when I leave town? There are several climactic moments in Cube City when I'm around, but it's like World War Cubed when I leave. It's like these well-functioning people forget how to think and work when I'm not here. I don't want to be anybody's Homeland Security. Nobody should be that important, perceived or otherwise, in Cube City. It makes me feel uncomfortable, stressed, and burdened.

I despise the regret I feel when I return from a much-needed break. Why did I bother taking time off? I've come back to a field riddled with land mines and terrorists. How did things get so out of control in one day?

I will spend my Monday digging out from the rubble and seeing what I can salvage. It shouldn't have to be this way, but war is senseless. All I can do is try to rebuild. I would give anything for a decoy right now.

Out-of-Office Auto Reply

I am currently out of the office. I'm at the beach...and you aren't. I will respond to your message if I'm so inclined to return on June 9th...or ever.

For any immediate writing concerns, you're most likely out of luck. Two writers are on vacation, another is chained to only one project because of an insecure resource-hoarding nutcase ho-bag bitch, and the only remaining writer is probably too busy searching for another job during work hours. For any escalation needs, good luck. My boss just quit.

Have a nice day!

Doing Time

Cube City bears a striking resemblance to prison:

1. The colors are drab.
2. The small cube cells are lined up in a row.
3. You're told what to do every day.
4. You're told what to wear.
5. You're stuck doing time.
6. The toilets are dirty.

I'm sure there are many more similarities. This is a hot topic among disgruntled cube dwellers who argue that prison is better than Cube City.

But all I really know for sure is that I got my latest Social Security benefits statement in the mail last night, and I'll be doing at least three more life sentences before I'm released from Cube City -- no chance for parole.

Hatchet Man

Many cubicles ago, I worked at a start-up software company and miraculously survived a substantial round of layoffs. The body count went from 120 to 40...in one day. It was probably the worst experience I've ever had in Cube City, and my overly dramatic boss only added to the stress. She'd come out of the meeting room (where they were apparently making decisions on the fly about who to cut) and would say things like, "It's a killing field in there! I'm fighting to protect bodies! I'm fighting for your life!" Sheesh.

One high-level executive delivered the bad news to each person on the cut list that day. Strangely, he wasn't even in Human Resources. He was the Chief Financial Officer! As several of us waited to hear our fate that day, we started referring to him as Hatchet Man. The name couldn't have been more fitting under the circumstances.

Long after the massive layoffs on that doom-filled day (which occurred three days after I had closed on my first house, by the way), the name Hatchet Man lived on. I think many of us even forgot the guy's real name. Of course, word got around that we were calling him Hatchet Man, and he seemed to like it. Many of us concluded that Hatchet Man took great joy in firing people. One of my more daring, or perhaps just stupid, co-workers would even ask him, "Hey, Hatchet Man, why the big grin? Are you firing somebody today?"

He eventually left the company to start his own business, and we were all relieved to bury the hatchet.

Say What?!

Last night, I was in desperate need of post-cubicle brain candy. So I watched The Bachelorette -- the show about finding love after spending a ridiculously short amount of time sucking face (and who knows what else) with 25 people -- and laughed at a lot of the typical asinine comments and antics. As one candidate was sent home, he made the most senseless comment of the night:

"She didn't reject me. She just chose other guys."

Um, hello? That's rejection. That's like going on a series of seemingly successful interviews and coming up empty, only to say, "That company didn't reject me. They just chose another person for the job." Yeaaaaah. Explain that to the rejection letters in your mailbox.
I've received many rejection letters over the years. My favorite is probably the form letter that contains my correct name and mailing address with a "Dear Tina" in the Salutation line. I like to pretend that Tina Turner and I applied for the same job and we both lost out. In Cube City, love's got nothing to do with it.

What's your rejection letter story?

Call for Monday-isms

I saw the Sex and the City movie last night and had a good laugh when Carrie expressed an urgent need to wake up from her Mexicoma (I'm keeping this vague on purpose so as not to spoil the movie for those who haven't yet seen it).

It got me thinking about Mondays, and I'm wondering how you refer to Mondaze? Any A.K.A. names for the worst day of the week, dear cube dwellers?