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January 11, 2010
Do I sit in a cubicle, or does my cubicle sit around me? These are the questions I ponder as I sit at my computer
typing whatever may have just come across my desk or through my e-mail. I guess I probably should be working,
but I find it so much more self-gratifying to ruminate over the metaphysical aspect of the office I visit five days out of
the week.
For example, I think it would be really cool if my cubicle was retractable. That way, I would know that it was there
when I was gone, beckoning me to return. I would just push a big red button, like the ones in the Staples
commercials, and my cubicle would sink into the ground, lying dormant until I return and actively commit to do
work in the next week. That would probably just initiate another period of needless determination, though, cause I
would probably just stand at the cusp of my retracted cubicle with my fingers lightly touching the button, willing
myself to extract it from the depths.
I think if there was an earthquake, like a really monstrous earthquake, and I tried to hide underneath the desk
lining my cubicle, it would buckle and crush me to death. I think it’s been planning this for a long time, planning
new and creative ways to bump me off. That’s another reason to not have a retractable cubicle, cause as soon as
the earthquake hit I know the damn cubicle would sink underground and I’d be left unprotected. I can hear my
cubicle cackling as it sinks into its safe haven while giant beams and foil-colored lights collapse on me, just
before I’m impaled by one of the fire sprinkler system pipes. Then, just as I’m about to breathe my last and give
my soul over to the great beyond, my cubicle would rise back up from the ground, and pee on my face. I don’t
know how it would do that being a neuter object, but I’m sure it would find a way.
Do I sit in a cubicle, or does my cubicle sit around me? These are the questions I ponder as I sit at my computer
typing whatever may have just come across my desk or through my e-mail. I guess I probably should be working,
but I find it so much more self-gratifying to ruminate over the metaphysical aspect of the office I visit five days out of
the week.
For example, I think it would be really cool if my cubicle was retractable. That way, I would know that it was there
when I was gone, beckoning me to return. I would just push a big red button, like the ones in the Staples
commercials, and my cubicle would sink into the ground, lying dormant until I return and actively commit to do
work in the next week. That would probably just initiate another period of needless determination, though, cause I
would probably just stand at the cusp of my retracted cubicle with my fingers lightly touching the button, willing
myself to extract it from the depths.
I think if there was an earthquake, like a really monstrous earthquake, and I tried to hide underneath the desk
lining my cubicle, it would buckle and crush me to death. I think it’s been planning this for a long time, planning
new and creative ways to bump me off. That’s another reason to not have a retractable cubicle, cause as soon as
the earthquake hit I know the damn cubicle would sink underground and I’d be left unprotected. I can hear my
cubicle cackling as it sinks into its safe haven while giant beams and foil-colored lights collapse on me, just
before I’m impaled by one of the fire sprinkler system pipes. Then, just as I’m about to breathe my last and give
my soul over to the great beyond, my cubicle would rise back up from the ground, and pee on my face. I don’t
know how it would do that being a neuter object, but I’m sure it would find a way.