Welcome to the Cube Life

For the sake of discretion, names with a * have been changed

Have you ever had the feeling that you're surrounded by crazy people? It happens to me every day. But only at work. That should worry me, right? Even just a little? At first I thought I was hearing things. Then I thought that I was losing my memory. Turns out it's both.

I've been working at my current place of employment for a little over 8 months and I am so dense that I am just starting to understand the quiet undertakings of the office. Work is like high school all over again: the 'cool' kids, a Motley Crew, the shy type, surfer dude, a computer geek, the superior smarty-pants, and my personal favorite (NOT!) - a Diva. Apparently my company only hires crazies and thieves. They hired me just for the equal opportunity benefits. I restore balance to the mayhem. John* has tourettes - I'm convinced. He makes up the crazy in the office. The others - all the others - are thieves.

Hearing Voices
Our office is made up of the reception area (a formal reception lounge for our candidates and clients) and the "Bull Pen" or sales work area placed behind doors only accessible by key cards. Of which you can always find one hanging up on the access reader. Really, we should hang a neon sign that says: "Everyone Welcome. Please steal all our valuables!" But I digress. Basically the "Bull Pen" (which does not contain Bulls of any shape or size, unless you count John* who occassionally snorts...randomly...and then giggles like a little schoolgirl) is just a large open space filled with short cubicles. That's so anyone can spy on everyone else. I first started hearing the music about 5 months ago but never could quite pin point its origin. I thought that I was just remembering songs on the radio. Not so. About 2 months ago I started to notice random words being interjected into non-related conversations. Diva and Motley Crew would be talking about client visits and what kind of percentages they could assume would be charged when I would hear words like 'maniac', 'hamburger', and 'flying squirrel' interjected. All used in one sentence. Just about last month I realized the culprit of my unfortunate noise paranoia. John* has tourettes. I am positive that he has never sought counseling or seen any kind of specialist on the matter. He should. He SHOULD! I was watching him today and I noticed that no matter what he was working on, he'd spring into song, mid-sentence, like he couldn't contain his voice. He's a walking jukebox. I think that his type of crazy would be fine normally, maybe in Venice Beach or along the streets of New York, but in our office it goes something like this: Sales agents on the phone talking loudly, desk music, John* breaks into a musical, phones are ringing, papers are shuffling, John* yells "TOMATO!", everyone tells John* to shut-up, I can't hear. I'm answering the phones. People must think I'm an 80 year old woman. These are my best receptionist calls:

Me: Good morning, thank you for calling OfficeTeam, this is Julianne, how may I direct your call? (long winded, eh? Thank you management for forcing me to do this!)

Candidate: I'm looking for Diva

Me: I'm sorry, I did not hear you. Can you please repeat that?

Candidate: Diva. Please connect me with Diva.

Me: Excuse me?

Candidate: Can you hear me? Hello? D.I.V.A. I need to speak with DIIIIIIVVVVAAAAA

Me: Eh?

Candidate: Do you work in an office or the zoo?
(John*: Snort. Right on cue)

Seriously. He has tourettes! Turns out I was hearing things. I was hearing everything. Unfortunately, that includes John*. Who has a way of making me enjoy each day I have to be couped up in that office.

Our Sales Force and the Merry Thieves
Now on to my memory loss. I could have sworn that I had more marketing materials on my desk yesterday morning. But I am not positive. So each day I come to work and I have a sinking feeling something is missing and each day I leave resolved to remember my desk exactly as it was. But I am as confused each morning as I was the previous day with a sneaking suspicion that something is out of order. My universe, a.k.a. my desk, is out of order. Something is missing. Is there something extra? No, no. Something is definitely gone. But what IS it? Something fishy happens in the office between the hours of 6:00pm and 9:00am. And I finally figured out what it is. Our Sales Team. All except John* - the song singin', word spouting crazy that resides in our office. I came into work just last week and I saw a mass of people scatter away from my desk, the universe in which I reside 40 hours a week, containing PlanetME. My universe had been invaded and I would have been none-the-wiser had I not seen them. These thieves swarmed, took their precious items, and left me bereft. I KNEW it! Well, I SHOULD have known it! As a result of the office-wide disease of "sticky fingers" I have learned to hide the often used marketing materials so as to always have some on hand. These little mongrels rifled through my desk during the evenings or early mornings and then would pretend nothing had happened. Before you know it, we're out of supplies so I go to my secret, life-saving stash of hidden stuff and VOILA! Nada. Zip. Zilche. Empty like a black hole. So there I was, staring into what had been my not-so-well-known-hiding-space that is now an abyss of despair, desperately seeking materials for these "so important you might die if you don't have what I need" client visits. Sad. Tear. I have to think like a squirrel. Where can I hide my stuff? I need a super-unknown-you'll never find in a frillion years even if you knock down the building- type of spot. I'll have to sneak into the office at unholy hours just to ensure my things are in their place.

At least I know that I was hearing things and losing my mind. But at least I'm not crazy. Yet.

Welcome to the Cube Life

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Tourettes and the Office Supply Thieves

Do you wish the ceiling was the sky? Or the light bulbs could give you a tan? Then this is the right place for you.