Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Don't Know Whatcha Got Til It's Gone

I never, ever thought I would say this as long as the world was round, but I absolutely love cubicles. We're getting ready to move to another floor, and since our cubicle panels will need to be moved, they thought now would be a good time to have them recovered. So our panels were removed last week. Talk about feeling like you're in a fish bowl. It's only eight weeks, I can get through anything, right?

The worst part isn't that your every move is on a grand stage. It isn't the added noise, or the added visual distraction. It isn't even that you can plainly see that people are indeed utter slobs. No, the worst part is that you can stand up to take your lunch to the fridge, happen to glance over at someone we'll call Turbo and see him knuckle-deep in the booger vault.

And then there's Uncle J., the creepy, meat-gazing freak who roams around with that special glint in his eye (is that a daub of What-About-Mary mousse hanging off his chin?) With no walls, his man-per-scan ratio just increased by orders of magnitude.

Can I pleeeeez have my 8X8 cell back? I'll never complain again. Dilbert always complains about cubicles. He can f*%# off, because he apparently never experienced the alternative.

1 comments:

Vix said...

Plus, without all those cubicle walls, there is no way to slowly box Milton in and steal his special red stapler!

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