A Tragedy of Growing Old

One of the great tragediennes of growing older is that you must give up some things that keep you quite comfortable and safe. For instance, your crib keeps you from falling out of bed while sleeping, the Binky keeps you from crying, and the sippy-cup, a friend of all clumsy hands and forgetful elbows keeps us from spilling our drinks - brilliant!

Some of us wish that we hadn't graduated so quickly from the safety of our sippy cups.

It was another Friday morning in the cube, the fluorescent lights were shining, the air conditioning was rustling through my hair, and the smell of fresh brewed coffee could be detected from my cube. I was quite complacent, until I went for the coffee pot. I'd spent a good 8 minuets grinding the Starbucks Italian Blend coffee beans and watching the liquid peculate in the jar. I poured an especially large portion and brought it back to the safety of my cube, much like the safety of my crib... the cubicle walls keep me from falling out of my cube when I'm sleeping. What?

As I was truly enjoying my cup-o-joe and studying the countries of Europe, I quickly reached for my cup and destroyed it! POW! I knocked it, with zero finesse, right into the keyboard, onto my lap, and soaked the mouse pad (which is sitting underneath my desk to dry out now). I stared for a few seconds at the coffee, my coffee, dripping and bumbling through the keys. It was gross. I mean really gross.

I jumped up quickly, tripping over the power cord, and stumbling into the hall. I had the attention of my co-workers at this point, especially because I am now running( and I do mean running) to get some paper towels from the bathroom, because the coffee, my delicious coffee, was soaking through my key board and ruining whatever components were in its path! Oi Vey!

I start wiping off the keyboard, which is still plugged in, and every time I ran the towel over the keys it obnoxiously went *ding*, *ding*, *ding*. Audible enough for my neighbors to hear. From whipping off random keys I sent an e-mail with a title "lhgfdgfdhgfk" and no content to one of my co-workers. It was also dripping on my foot and I happened to be wearing sandals.

It was a pathetic scence.

All of this could have been avoided if I wasn't so prideful and would just drink my coffee out of a sippy cup.

Baby in a Cube!

A fascinating thing happens when a co-worker has a baby. Its a wonderous time for cube dwellers, somthing strange starts to happen. You hear about the baby's progress, when its due, what color the bedroom they just painted is, the baby shower, the new crib, the car seat, the baby monitor, and the collection of names they've come up with, most of which sound absurd to you. When the baby finally arives, they have to bring it in to show off. Maybe its Mommy picking Daddy up for lunch and she just happens to come inside, baby in toat.

Today, someone came in to pick up a check and brought their baby with them. *Crash, Bang, Boom!* All productivity in the office came to a screetching halt. People get out of their desks and walk towards the baby. Some linger close by to get a peak, and others jump right in with their goo goo eyes, talking loudly into the baby's face and making strange noises.

It was amaing. Nothing could be done for the 25 minuets the baby was there. "He's so big!", and "look at those toes!", of course "he looks just like you", and "he is soooooo cute, I bet he's gonna be just like his Daddy someday." Its quite a show.

Then, after the baby leaves, the conversation begins. One of two things is discussed: 1. The Mom's suddenly yearn for another baby of their own, and reminice about their past, or 2. people talk about how ugly/cute the baby was and rehash everything over and over.

I just sat there, opened mouth, eyes afixed on the little one and the scence around me.

I couldn't believe what happened when the unfarmiliar makes its way into the cubicle maze. It's an upset of balance, and people shift into a new form.

I think its just incredible.

Of the Endangered Species List

I've got sticky mouse syndrome. My mouse refuses to budge. I shake it, I blow on the little ball, and I bang it against the desk, but the mouse still sticks. I know they sell wireless/balless mouces(mice?), but I don't have one. So, I have to suffice with what I've got, and that happens to be a mouse with its ball still in tact. She's an endangered species, and one of the least sought after items in an office. However, I continue to caress her and hope the cursor glides across the screen at the same time and, more importantly in the same direction, as my mouse.

I always wondered why they would make such a device, obviously technological advances in science have allowed us to operate a finger pad on our laptops and a balless mouse with a sensor, but I still wonder how long it will take until all offices rid their cubes of the very last mouse-with-ball.

It's clear that I am now the minority, most have switched over and are advancing in exponential ways. Will I be the last to own a ball mouse? If so, should I save this little guy as a collectors item, or throw it away in the trash?

During these frustrating times, I want to throw the sticky icky mouse in the dumpster along with various other office products.
Enjoy this little bit of technology. It's the Kiwi Mouse from New Zeland by Microsoft. I think its time I get one.


I hope that I've captured some unanimous frustrations. Do you still have a ball operated mouse? Or do I have a rare collectors item?

Birthday Bash

Cubicle birthdays can be a blast! I had a birthday last weekend and... no one even knew. It felt good to roam around the cube maze with my little secret. Yes, I had passed the day of my birth successfully without the office lighting up. When I say "lighting up" I do mean something very specific. It's the birthday tone, which takes place when everyone finds out it's your birthday.

Bob had a birthday last week and he had to take five Tylenol to get rid of his headache. All the back slaps and "over the hill" jokes, the prank birthday presents and the awkward non-prank presents, and the not-so-free free lunch you have to buy everyone to celebrate your special day. Bob had people stopping by his desk to ask his what he was doing to celebrate and what his wife had gotten him all day long. He practically got zero work done.

I sat across from his cube watching it all take place and relishing in the fact that it wouldn't happen to me on my birthday. Well, the birthday came and went, and here I am blogging about not having to deal with all the attention. Today was just another day, the invoices came and went, I've had to re-tac a view loose papers that fell on the ground, and I've responded promptly to my incoming e-mails. I'm just sitting here in peace. I'm sure Bob is off of his birthday high right now. That must stink.

I sure am glad I didn't have to deal with those old jokes...

A Cubicle Confession From the Heart

Typing an important document for the boss, I lean back to take a quick breather. I'd been working on this document for hours. After a quick break I sit back up and as my index finger heads towards the T key and my ring finger lands on the O key....*POP*! The screen goes black. My jaw opens slowly and I sit in my cubicle chair, staring at a black screen suspended in limbo. The power had turned off. My document...

After a quick investigation, I discovered the source of the short circuiting laptop - it was my power strip, and the villainous ease of my foot tapping off the power. I feel like a power strip should have some kind of security code you have to press before it allows you turn it off, kind of the like your cell phone, the security systems in your house, the pin number on your debit card, or the nuclear weapons silo in the dessert.

Well, it was one of those moments, where I am the only person to blame, but I want so badly to shift the blame on to something or someone else for ruining my project. My precious work was G.O.N.E! I shuffled to turn the power back on, this time using my hand to flip the switch and doing it with malice. The screen flickers back on and I check the auto save to see how much I had to back track. It turns out my little clumsy moment only cost me ten minuets of work or so.

I am feeling much better that I've caught up where I left off before the power loss. In an hour I was very close to being done. I review my work, decide its ready to go, slowly move my cursor over the save button (I'm moving it slowly for dramatic effect for my readers, I picture a slow motion moment happening here)... and *POP*!

I did it again! Somehow I managed to tap the little red light on the power strip and everything turns off. I forgot to mention last time that it wasn't just the computer that had turned off. I also had to reset the clock, reset the phone, and allow the printer to start back up. So, at this point, you can see I'm fed up with the power strip and my clumsy toes. I am almost ready to cry, when the boss walks by and asks for the document he'd been waiting on.

I had to explain why it wasn't ready. Folks, I wish you could understand the grief here. Many of you probably can. There is something in fabric of a day in the office, where something goes arey and all the processes that follow seem to malfunction.

Do you have a tragic office story of your own? I would, truly, love to hear them.

Cubicle Scum...

Have you ever cleaned out your cubicle and discovered a distributing amount of suspicious material? Let me clarify. I was cleaning out my cubicle, and under my phone, stuck beneath picture frames, and in between the keys in my keyboard there was gooey, crummy, sticky material with which I could not identify.

I know we all eat lunch at our desks to avoid the painful conversations of the break room. You know what I'm talking about? The awkward silences, the meaningless filler conversation, and the fake laughter about old jokes. So, some of us eat our desks. It doesn't mean we're not cool, we're simply enlightened. But, avoiding the break room banter has its downfalls. Eating at your desk produces some hazardous aftermath. It doesn't matter how clean I try to be, something always gets spilled. I clean up right away, don't get me wrong, but the mess is never fully gone. Something gets left behind, and that something is scary the buildup of cubicle scum.

Cubicle scum is naughty. Really, it is! It manages to hide for days, weeks, months, even years (depending on your cleaning habits) until discovered by a throughout clean. When I mean thorough I mean a complete overhaul, removing everything and giving it a good wipe-down.

I will touch on one last point, which happens to be the area most hit and hardest to clean by cubicle scum... the keyboard! Its as if all of a sudden you notice one day that there are crumbs and scum stuck in between every key, appearing over night! Unless you have some heavy duty air pressure, or are willing to remove each individual key, you have to deal with the the festering dirt so close to your fingers.

I am perplexed but found this interesting item that will pick up the dirt out of your keyboard by simply rolling around over your keys and applying pressure.

Any other ideas?

Pump, Stilettos, in the Cube

Stilettos in the cubicle. Whats the point?

The use of high heeled shoes at the work place, seems a bit ridiculous to me. Yet, I am wearing a pair of high heeled, pointy toed, black suede heels right now. I am one to admit that they are not comfortable, and yet I still rock them on a weekly basis.

I have to take my high heeled beauties off when I am sitting at my cube. They simply make my legs to long to fit under my cube desk. During the day, cubicle dwellers do what they can to stretch their legs and keep circulation going while sitting down. (See my blog on working out in the cubicle) What we ladies like to do (men you can comment, because I'm sure you do the same thing) is slip off our heels, and as an acquaintance of mine says, "Let the dog's breathe." Translation: air out those sweaty feet! Women, like me, stretch out our legs and rest them on the modem sitting on the ground. It is the perfect opportunity to stay fresh and comfortable in the cube while they are gently warmed by the modem beneath.

However, there is some strategy involved in keeping your footsy exposure to a minimum. It is important to keep your shoes lined up and close to your stretched out feet. If they are too far away and hard to slip on, when someone comes by your office you can't casually put them back on without them noticing and some embarrassment might ensue.

Sometimes your stilettos are too big, and might slip off accidentally. When they slip off they tumble to the side and are difficult to put back on. If you cross your legs and gravity takes it tole (as usual) the shoes is off. This is where is becomes to tricky to jump up and help send an urgent shipment, or quickly hop in on a conference call in your bosses office. Like me, I am often caught in a shoe crisis. The boss will call, or walk by, and all of a sudden my stiletto will be gone. A naked foot is an easy target for the wondering eye, and is often looked down upon by cubicle visitors.

If you have any tricks that might help ease this ongoing problem, please comment.

Scammed!

I just hung up on an important client. The office phone system can be quite the pickle sometimes. I put them on hold, I bring the person they are trying to reach up on the intercom, and if I am lucky I will transfer the call without hanging up on them. Oops.

Nine out of ten times, the transfer will go smoothly, but we all know that the one time I do mess up a call, it turns out to be someone important.

I enjoy the calls I get in a day. Interacting with someone else, somewhere else, with an entirely different life than mine. It is always a breath of fresh air, when I can speak to a real human being who is remotely happy about life. There are always stinkers who assume I have no feelings and have no consideration for me as a friendly cubicle dweller ready to talk.

It's easy to get used and abused on the phone. My favorite is when a telemarketer calls me and says that she is not trying to sell me anything. I give her about three seconds to talk then I say, "sweetheart, can you hold for a minuet, I have someone else on the line." Usually they don't hold, but for those who do, I give them a good eight minuets of waiting time. If they last that long, I pick back up the phone, tell them I forgot about them, and give them another five minuets to give me their speal.

Now, you have to be careful because some callers will manipulate you into agreeing to something phony. I did a little investigating into the telesales market to figure out what real profit they are making if everyone hangs up on them before they get a chance to talks.

The Federal Trade Commission said, "Telemarketing fraud is a multi-billion dollar business in the United States. Every year, thousands of consumers lose as little as a few dollars to as much as their life savings to telephone con artists."

The TFC says to be wary of people offering Medical Discounts, Foreign Lotteries, Travel Packages, Charities, and Investments. Which basically means, if you don't know the person, don't talk to them. Of course, I am too smart to fall into any of that kind of business...

Isn't that sad? What if someone really had something good to say?