The Eeek-onomy

When does one powerful person's lack of planning in Cube City result in everyone else's emergency?

Now. That's when.

When the economy bottoms out and you tell yourself you're lucky to have a job, that's when they've got you. You are their bitch. You will work nights. You will work weekends. You will plaster a smile on your face and pretend that you have nothing better to do at night and on weekends than to sit in your cube and sweat out the work.

It's similar to the real estate market. Your employer is the buyer and you are the seller. Right now, it's a buyer's market. You are not going to close the deal on your own terms. Inspections will uncover tiny things that wouldn't matter in a seller's market. Your pride and joy will be taken from you for a fraction of its worth. You will agree to fix the smallest and biggest problems. You will do what it takes, no matter what the price. You can't afford not to.

As if the eeeek-onomy isn't enough of an emergency, I now face a mountain of work in Cube City that's got to be done by a skeleton crew in a matter of a few days, nights, and weekends. I'm not sure I can close the deal this quickly, but I will do what it takes. I just want to get it sold.

Due Day

I've got a deadline hanging over my head in Cube City today. I'm sure I'll meet it, but still...I worry.

So much could go wrong today:
A. I could get caught up with other projects or obstacles.
B. This project could take longer than I'm anticipating.
C. I might have questions for teammates that possibly won't be answered in time to meet this deadline.
D. All of the above

In a sick sort of way, I've come to thrive on this stress because, when I don't have a deadline, I feel no pressure or excitement in my day. This is rare, as Cube City is typically synonymous with deadlines, but it makes me curious about what I really want out of my work day. I dread a day without deadlines as much as a day with them, but that's because I'm tested for entirely different reasons.

Okay, I had better toe the line now, or I'm dead.

Thinking Inside the Box(es)

I recently attended a training session about what we can and cannot say when we market certain products in Cube City. The industry I'm in already has strict guidelines that leave you trapped inside a very tiny box -- supposedly for everyone's own good (except for the consumer, of course -- after all, we're talking about the lies that define "marketing" here).

At the training session, I learned that there are now strict revisions to these strict guidelines. So now we have been placed inside a minuscule box within the original very tiny box.

After the session ended, one cube dweller said, "We're going to have to get really creative to work around these guidelines." She was joking, whether she realized it or not. There is no room for creativity when your freedom of speech is repeatedly squelched and revised.

Southern Diss Comfort

A friend of mine works for a large, nationally known bank in Cube City. This friend often tells me horror stories about underpaid, untrained employees who handle the bank's money. These employees frequently make grave errors with ridiculously large sums of money. However, due to being (1) grunt workers and (2) seriously understaffed, they rarely get fired.

I have no point. I just wanted to make you all feel a little bit more uncomfortable about today's bleak economy.

Hopping From Misery to Misery

A friend of mine recently admitted that she envies the "job hoppers" who have worked in more than one Cube City. She's had the same job in the same large, established company for more than 30 years. She's not really big on change.

I know people like this. My dad worked in the same place for well over 40 years. The man had stamina, in my eyes. Lots and lots of stamina.

I don't know what to tell my friend. There's nothing to envy about anyone who works in Cube City, no matter where they work, what they do, or how long they've been doing it. It's called "Same Shit, Different Place." I've had many corporate jobs over the years involving cubicles in various designs -- tall gray tweed cubicles, chin-level retro cubicles, and tiny pig-sized cubicles. I've also had the satisfaction of giving various Cube Cities the finger with the healing act of resignation letters.

But really, none of this is anything to celebrate, much less envy. In fact, all it does is help you realize, from intimate personal experience, that you don't have a chance of being happy anywhere, or at any time, in Cube City.

All you can really do is look at people who are just entering the workforce and be glad that you're not them. Your road to retirement is shorter than theirs. So really, there's nothing to envy. There's only the comfort that somebody out there in Cube City is less fortunate than you.

The Sniffer: Part Deux

As if my troubles with Facebook aren't enough, I've got new drama with another networking site: LinkedIn. The Sniffer has found me on LinkedIn. It's really no surprise, as you must list your previous places of employment on LinkedIn in order to have the most success in finding past cube dwellers to add to your network.

A quite lengthy note accompanied The Sniffer's invitation to join her LinkedIn network. The most disturbing, yet simultaneously entertaining, part of her note was her opening statement: "I hope you remember me."

You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.

How could ANYONE forget The Sniffer?! She was insane! She was over the top!

I thought back to a cube dweller who found The Sniffer's insanity to be fascinating -- so much so, that he Googled her name after she'd been laid off from our Cube City and stumbled upon a fantastically insane find: The Sniffer's resume. The resume contained an undated photo that barely resembled The Sniffer. The photo was probably at least 15 years old. To make matters worse, The Sniffer had written an opening statement on her resume about how she'd been part of her previous employer's "bloodbath" of layoffs. Yes, BLOODBATH. There it was -- her true colors, splashing boldly across the page. I'm sure her choice of words on her resume won her a lot of points with prospective employers thereafter.

You know where this is going, cube dwellers. I couldn't help myself. When The Sniffer found me, I simply had to Google to see if I could find her infamous resume...and I DID! It's been at least 8 years since I worked with The Sniffer, and that same undated photo is still posted on her resume. I'm really not surprised about that. And I shouldn't be surprised at the updated commentary on her resume, but I am -- something about, "If you don't want to look stupid or careless, hire me." Seriously? Srsly. There's a shock factor with The Sniffer that I cannot articulate, let alone put into a perspective that makes sense to me. I wish I could make this stuff up, but the people in Cube City insist on writing it all for me!

This road trip down Memory Lane has been fun, but it has killed my shock absorbers. I won't be adding The Sniffer to my LinkedIn network.

Cube Q&A: Joking Around

Q: What do you do when somebody who reports to you is a joke?
A: This is no laughing matter. But what's funny is that you got suckered into being a manager in the first place. Look around you. How many managers have you ever had in Cube City that you've actually liked, let alone respected? It's not looking good. Odds are that you are stuck with the joke because your manager is a joke and will therefore fail to support you or provide guidance of any kind. Clearly the joke is on you.