Cubicle Farm Life

About 9 years ago I worked for Satan. Satan is a large office supply retailer, and I worked in their Risk Management Department. It was one of those experiences where it sounds like a really great choice at first then you realize about 24 minutes in that it was a terrible terrible terrible choice.

There were some benefits to working there. I met one of my favorite people there, James, who you’ve heard about in a prior blog post. They also had an omelet bar for breakfast, which sadly is something that kept me there longer than I should have been. If I ever start a company I’ll demand an all-day omelet bar. I think the impact of an omelet bar is grossly underestimated.

But I digress… They were located in a nice spot right off the highway. They had daycare programs for vacation weeks so parents can bring their kids to work during school vacations, which I took advantage of and still think it’s pretty cool. It’s also a very well-known brand so there’s a sense of pride in working there, until you realize you work with Satan, then the pride sort of stops. Sounds like my prior pizza slum lord stint eh? Yep, it’s a trend.

So, after my 3210723th ethics argument with Satan and his followers (ie my refusal to do clearly unethical things) and after James found herself as an unexpected passenger in a car ride with our very drunk (driving) boss after a company golf tournament, we decided this wasn’t really a cultural fit for us. We are averse to silly things like knowingly financially harming claimants, ignoring privacy laws, and being subjected to almost dying at the hands of a drunken driving boss. James and I are weird like that I guess. The other ~7K home office employees seemed to be going about their business.

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This is all fine, just keep walking. It’s fine. 

I’m not the type to burn bridges necessarily. It’s a small world and I’m very diplomatic. But I do stick it to the man in small ways. My friends and family argue that I am “the man” so if I’m sticking it to the man I’m sticking it to myself. Oh well… I still do it. So, James and I both left and before I left I changed all of the passwords to the systems (both internal and external governmental compliance systems) to “JimIsADoucheInSheepsClothing666”. Oh and one login was too an ACH system for transferring large funds, and I changed the password to “MyNameIsJimAndImGrosslyUnderqualified” It’s the little things, right? Hey they told me to leave him the passwords, and I kept my word.

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Then I said good-bye to cubicle farm life. I started working for a large property and casualty insurance carrier in the field. i.e. I had a company car and was on the road 4-5 days a week. FREEDOM! The freedom from the cubicle farm was awesome. I worked many more hours but I made my own schedule and that suited me just fine.

About 3 years in I changed jobs to a home office position, but continued to work from home for about 5 years. Then this year I offered (aghem) to come into the office 3 days a week. Yes yes I know… poor Marie Christine has to go into an office THREE days a week. Light a candle for me at church this Sunday, will you? I also get to choose which days they are, and if for some reason I didn’t make it in for the 3 days, literally no one would notice or care. But STILL… a candle, please.

I will add that with no traffic my commute is exactly 1 hour and 1 minute long. There is never no traffic, so it ranges from an hour and 15 minutes to an hour and 45 minutes each way. Candle please…

It’s only been 2 months and adjusting to #TowerLyfe has been interesting. The first few days I felt like an actual rat in a cage. I didn’t realize how much freedom I had until I didn’t have it. I mean realistically no one is telling me I can’t leave… but I’m not in my Jimi Hendrix Shirt, yoga pants and ponytail in my basement… so… it’s different. Ok by Jimi Hendrix Shirt & yoga pants I meant nightgown & bathrobe… tomato tomahto.


Not gonna lie it’s pretty much like this. “Can you skype?” “Sorry my camera isn’t working, tech issues!”.

Deleted paragraph about the fact that people don’t work as much as they used to was previously found here… public blog equal edited blog… sigh. 


I also forgot a few fun facts about working in an office. People chew. Loud. People talk. Loud. People leave the kitchen a mess as if the facilities staff are their personal housekeepers. People can be totally un-self-aware. I was waiting to get hot water last week and the hot water is part of the kitchen sink. There’s a nice side tap for hot tea water. This woman was washing her coffee mug forever. Not forever but I timed it and it was 3 full minutes, as I’m standing there waiting to take maybe 10 seconds to fill my cup. Has common sense and decency also left the building? Don’t get me started on the bathrooms. It’s 2018 and we haven’t solved the mystery of having bathrooms that don’t smell like low tide?

thumbnail_cubicle lord of the rings

Thanks to companies like Google and other millennial-grabbing forward thinkers, our office was recently renovated into 22 floors of collaborative space. This means tiny cubes with low walls and lots of open collaboration areas. It looks cool. I feel like I’m on a space ship when I walk into our lobby. There are “pods” you can sit and work in and it’s all very millennial-grabbing and whatnot. I will say the cubicle walls are higher than I’ve seen in some areas so it could be worse. Most closed office space was eliminated (another deleted scene) I’ve never cared about titles or offices. You can’t eat a title. Pay me more, call me whatever you want and I’ll sit in the basement on the floor if you want.

Overall the open space concept is ok. I’m not unfriendly, I think people would say I am friendly. But mostly I just want to do my job and have most people leave me the fuck alone. Ok maybe after reading that back I’m not as friendly as I think I am. Hmmm.

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One of the major upsides is being with my team and our business partners. It’s great to be in person for meetings and we get a lot done when we are together. I feel less disconnected and better understand people being able to get to know them better.

Parking is free, but pretty crazy. I’m used to parking in my driveway, or parking at a client’s office. For the tower, I need to park in a lot then take a shuttle into the office. Not ideal. Allegedly when I get my next promotion I’ll be able to park in the attached garage, so that will give me one less thing to complain about. But I assume the increased level of responsibility will give me more to complain about in general. It’s a complaint balancing act. Our company requires, for branding consistency, that we only use Arial font. As a small way of sticking it to the man is that I use Calibri font on everything. Take that beuracracy! I figure Calibri is a much better way to manage work complaint angst than some other potential options.


I currently sit next to one of my favorite people at my office, Papa-P. We’ve been working on a project together for almost 5 years. He is super smart, very nice and very productive. He is also thoughtful and doesn’t get nearly the amount of credit he deserves for the level of work he does. That said, he had the audacity put in a request to change desks (ie not sit near me) ALLEGEDLY before I started coming into the office. He will be moving tomorrow to have a window seat, essentially abandoning me in the cubicle farm subject to an unlimited list of possible future seat mates. He’s dead to me at the moment but I’m sure I will get past this unexpected set back. Maybe I’ll forgive him if he starts using Calibri font? This doesn’t happen on the road. On the road it’s you and you alone and your work.

thumbnail_cubicle jerkface leaving

The upside to this is that I get to hold this over his head until he retires. Or actually until I die, whichever comes first. He also hates attention so I should probably bring attention to this whenever possible. It just makes sense. For all of our co-workers reading this, feel free to guilt trip Papa-P until further notice. Sincerely, gold is from aliens.

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Probably less than a 1% chance of this type of conversation occurring PP (Post Papa-P). The window will not get your sense of humor, because it’s a fucking window. 

Things I hope to avoid with future seat mate:

  • Loud Chewers
  • Late Arrival Early Departure (Lazy people)
  • Negative Nellies
  • Braggers/One-Uppers
  • People whose happiness is associated with the success or failure of a sports team
  • Hygiene Issues (Wear deodorant, don’t clip nails)
  • People in positions they don’t deserve
  • Name Droppers
  • Personal Over-Sharers
  • Hoarders
  • Crossfitters (#BasicBen Exception Applies)
  • Assholes
  • Fad Dieters. No shakeology, paleo, south beach, bone brothers please. I know you believe you’ve discovered the key to life but you sound like an idiot. It will all be over soon when the bacteria from your raw water kicks in.
  • People who don’t stop talking about the weather
  • Up-talkers
  • Shape-Shifters (I’m kidding I would love to have a shape-shifter as a seat mate)
  • Anti-Vaxxers
  • Women who don’t help other women
  • A mom who talks about her kids all day
  • Close talkers
  • People who constantly state the obvious
  • Man bun
  • No sense of humor
  • Huggers
  • People who come to work while sick

Good night folks, if you remember nothing else, remember that gold is from aliens. #Peace

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18 thoughts on “Cubicle Farm Life”

  1. Calibri! Yes!!! Why doesn’t the whole world realize how easy it is to read, no matter which pair of glasses you grabbed this time? You didn’t mention font size, however. I lean toward 14. Enjoyed this piece.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Wow, Mr. Times New Roman here feels like such an uptight fossil. Or maybe just a curmudgeon. So take your Ariel and your Calibri and cram ‘ em.

    On second thought, maybe we can work a deal. If can meet all of your requirements (except for the shape shifter thing), howabout I come in and handle the personal phone calls and kitchen conversation the job seems to require and thereby get a paycheck and benefits? I think this could work because I need a quiet place to write blog posts and I can do it in a way that looks like working. So when do I start? You can interrupt my dishwashing for hot water any time, if that’s an issue.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Ahahaha! Couple more things that at least made our stint in hell bearable:

    1. Shrimp Alfredo MADE TO ORDER….with legit shrimp.
    2. The on-site convenience store where we went for coffee and snacks about a million times a day toward the end because we couldn’t take DISC (Douche in Sheeps Clothing) or BK (Buzz Kill)
    3. The “meetings” we attended. i.e., finding a little known conference room in some random part of that enormous building and hiding out for hours.
    4. That game we played in our staff meetings where we randomly put tally marks on a piece of paper when DISC was talking, but never explained why.
    5. That time you stripped away BK’s ability to authorize settlements and hoard the mail. WTF was that about any way?

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I never really understood open work spaces, but then again I’ve ne wer held a position where one would make sense. That’s the great thing about working in the medical field, what with HIPPA and all… I’m rather fond of being able to shut my door to my office when I don’t want to deal with my fellow “workers” or just to blast 5 Finger Death Punch.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Personal over-sharers GOD YES. We have a “free pile” where people bring all varieties of things that they are giving away. My family knows how much I love this, as I am always bringing things home from this (framed art, vases, sweaters, it’s all free!)

    I was perusing the other day and this woman was like, “I brought in the Neil Diamond CD” and then word vomited at me about the tragedy of both of her parents dying and cleaning out their house and grieving and oh did she mention her grandson died last year?Why hello, nice to meet you person whose name I don’t even know!

    I’m not heartless just a little startled in these situations. I thought we were going to have a Neil Diamond discussion here.

    Liked by 1 person

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