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"My Cube" (Is This You?) Do you recognize this person?
My Cube You know, sometimes I hate working in corporate America. Why? Because of the damn cubes. Cubes have to be the worst thing created in the workplace. No privacy. People looking over your shoulder. All your phone business being heard by the world. And what's up with people that walk by as slow as they possibly damn can, to see what website your surfing instead of working? I hate that. You really want to see me go postal? Hover by my cube too long. You may get cussed out. It's my cube. Don't just bust up in there unannounced. Knock on the wall. Stick your head around the corner to see if I'm busy. Announce your presence. Don't just jump in because you don't see a door. Damn, is privacy too much to ask? It's my cube. Don't walk past and ask me who are all the pretty people in my pictures that decorate my desk. First of all, I don't have any ugly friends. Second of all, I don't have any ugly family. Third of all, what the hell are you doing lolly gagging around my cube long enough to look at all the pictures that I have anyway? Don't slow your roll at my cube, speed it up. It's my cube. Don't ask me where I got my plants from, my mirror from or my motivational prints from. That means you've been standing there too long, you better keep on walking. In fact, why don't you walk your ass To the nearest Garden Ridge, IKEA or Target? You wanna see decorations? Go to the damn store! It's my cube. If you see me on the phone, don't come in. Don't sit in my vacant chair until I'm done talking on the phone. What makes you think I want you to know all my personal business? I haven't summoned you. I haven't invited you to take a seat. I haven't asked you to laugh along with me at the jokes I tell my friends on the other line. We don't need to correspond in person. That's what an inbox was created for. You wanna talk to me? Send me an email. You got work for me to see? Drop it off in the inbox OUTSIDE of my cube. Damn, it ain't hanging there for decoration! It's my cube. Don't listen for noises from my cube that announce whether I'm arriving or leaving. Damn, I hate that! When I get here in the morning, I get here. I don't need you to say good morning loud enough so that the whole department can hear. Why do they need to know that I got here at 8:05, not 8:00? And when I get ready to leave, I'm gone. If you hear me taking my purse out of the draw or zipping up my bag, I don't need you to say goodbye loud enough so that the whole department can hear you announce my departure at 4:45 and not 5:00. Damn, I hate that! It's my cube. Don't think because I have staples, pens and notepads, that means you borrow some, shit, I said no the first time. If I say I don't have any, don't Walk by to check and see if I'm lying. I am. I just don't want you to have it. Do like I did. Walk your ass down the hall to the big supply room and get you some things. What do I look like, Office Max? It's my cube. Respect my house. ~Author: almost ever cubicle worker in the world, perhaps? ` [This message was edited Wed Oct 15 20:13:15 PDT 2003 by Supernova] This post not for the wimp contingent. All whiny wusses avert your eyes. | |
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everybody pretty much stays far away from my semi-cube. | |
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I've got an office.
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2the9s said: I've got an office.
I've got entire buildings to myself. This post not for the wimp contingent. All whiny wusses avert your eyes. | |
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