Cubeification Phase 1: Farewell Window Office
The cubeification process has begun at my place of employment. Phase 1 is nearly complete. During Phase 1 all of us who previously occupied upstairs window offices move down into the windowless dungeon of the first floor. The offices upstairs are to be razed and replaced with cubes. Then it’s on to Phase 2, when everyone will move from the windowless dungeon back upstairs into a human Habitrail, especially constructed just for us. I’m hoping I get one of these:
Yesterday was my last day in a window office. My beloved window office. That I have occupied for 16.5 years. That’s 16 and one half YEARS, people. I am traumatized. For 16.5 years, I’ve had a lovely view of the air conditioning units and the building where they store the industrial lawnmower. Beyond that used to be a field of cows, but now it’s just another suburban housing development. At first I resented the houses. I missed the cows, but I slowly came to accept and then enjoy the comings and goings that the neighborhood brought into view.
But that’s all gone now. There will be no more watching the garbage truck pick up trash on Tuesdays, no more catching sight of the maintenance guy driving the lawnmower at top speed into the storage building and wondering if he’ll be able to stop before he hits the far wall. I’ll never again see that exciting plume of black smoke that erupts from the generator behind the AC units whenever there’s a power outage. There won’t be anymore birds attempting to assault their own reflections in the window glass and scaring the crap out of me. I may as well just kill myself now.
Today was my first full day in the new, windowless, closet-like cavity that some are calling an “office.” It’s more like a dank, airless cell. How can people possibly be productive under these conditions?? I’m certain that the lack of natural sunlight is going throw me into an acute episode of seasonal affective disorder or could possibly result in a serious vitamin D deficiency.
I tell you one thing, if I end up with a case of rickets, someone is going to hear from my attorney.
Yesterday was my last day in a window office. My beloved window office. That I have occupied for 16.5 years. That’s 16 and one half YEARS, people. I am traumatized. For 16.5 years, I’ve had a lovely view of the air conditioning units and the building where they store the industrial lawnmower. Beyond that used to be a field of cows, but now it’s just another suburban housing development. At first I resented the houses. I missed the cows, but I slowly came to accept and then enjoy the comings and goings that the neighborhood brought into view.
But that’s all gone now. There will be no more watching the garbage truck pick up trash on Tuesdays, no more catching sight of the maintenance guy driving the lawnmower at top speed into the storage building and wondering if he’ll be able to stop before he hits the far wall. I’ll never again see that exciting plume of black smoke that erupts from the generator behind the AC units whenever there’s a power outage. There won’t be anymore birds attempting to assault their own reflections in the window glass and scaring the crap out of me. I may as well just kill myself now.
Today was my first full day in the new, windowless, closet-like cavity that some are calling an “office.” It’s more like a dank, airless cell. How can people possibly be productive under these conditions?? I’m certain that the lack of natural sunlight is going throw me into an acute episode of seasonal affective disorder or could possibly result in a serious vitamin D deficiency.
I tell you one thing, if I end up with a case of rickets, someone is going to hear from my attorney.
posted by Jill at 9:32 PM
7 Comments:
Would it make matters worse to hear that my current office window provides a high up view of the ships in the Puget Sound, and Mount Ranier and other Cascades? My dank airless cell is my hotel room- it mightily sucks. :(
Awww... I feel for you, suffering so much at the hands of an evil, impersonal company. I did LOL at the maintenance guy who might not be able to stop in time. I have a vivid, cartoon-like imagination. Seems like maybe you do too. :D
stucco, You can't see it from there, but I'm giving you a huge glowering glare right now.
I sympathize a little about the hotel room, but not much. It's temporary after all, and so can't be compared to my Phase 1 office, and even less so to my pending Phase 2 cube.
anne, That maintenance guy is the most contented person I've ever seen. He's been there almost as long as I have, and I see him outside every day, rain or shine, listening to some tunes, and doing something productive. He even mows in the rain, wearing a big green rain slicker, happy as a clam.
Oh Jill, you have my sympathy! I really wish you could end up in the Playground Tower with a 360-view and plenty of sunshine. But once the phrase 'cubeification process' comes into play, it is hard to imagine anyone ending up with anything that encourages a playful spirit. At the very least, I hope the dungeon phase ends quickly so at least you might be relatively close to some natural light back up on level 2.
And one day they'll regret that you aren't in your old spot keeping an eye on the lawnmower building.
Sunlight is not needed to be productive. Get back to work.
Seiously though, you should take a picture and show us.
I have always wanted to get a riding lawn mower, ATV, golf cart, or something of the like, and just speed my heart out with a gleeful smile on my face. I envy that maintenance worker.
I am so sorry that you have been "cubeified." What a horrible way to have to work! Do employers really think workers will not daydream or turn to the internet instead of staring out windows?
Oh no...Day One of Dungeon Life. How long till you get back up to the new cubicle maze? Are they gonna put vending machines in the corners so you can run through the maze like mice after cheese?
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