As previously stated before, the auxiliary offices for TharpSter.Org reside outside of the computer armoire which is tucked away in the corner of my *ahem* dining room. It’s almost a moot point to refer to the satellite location as a viable office for the website in which you have landed, as the only creative writing I do there involves composing emails that lead management to the firm belief that I’m carrying out the bidding of the company on a daily basis. Statistically speaking, I would guess that about 80% of the “work” I do there is completely made up. For that matter, the remaining 20% is suspect as well.
Even though I dedicate a tragically small amount of time to TharpSter.Org from the auxiliary office, it’s amazing how much inspiration for this site appears there. To walk around the campus, one would tend to disagree. There are sprawling rows of cubicles in every direction which causes one to reminisce of a plantation. Each cube has three walls. The tops of these walls are transparent so that you can see the person who is sitting on the other side of you. Consider these walls as not only a small piece of evidence that you may have x-ray vision, but also as a good sneeze guard.
The building itself is hidden away in what looks like the Texas hill country. I should add at this point that the surrounding environment isn’t that bad. According to my vet however, our Pit Bull Hope most likely picked up a potpourri of intestinal worms and a case of the choo-choo scoots out there in the days she was roughing it. That, of course, was prior to me taking her home to a warm bed, a roof over her head, and a chew toy which strangely resembles my missing AT&T U-Verse remote control.
So just to summarize things to this point a little more succinctly, let’s put it this way. I’m a weed in a cube farm. Even more than that, I’m the Executive Director of Cubicle S4567. I keep a back scratcher, a couple of pictures of the contingent beneficiaries, and a daily Dilbert calendar there. The desk is otherwise pretty empty. Compared to the cluttered mess here at headquarters, one could only surmise by analyzing my two desks that multiple personality disorders reign supreme in my world.
Given that minimalism is the name of the game during my working hours, sometimes there are things that happen in that time which serve as a catalyst to that pesky involuntary facial tick. That’s right people. Drive-by cubicle decorations tend to do it in for me. I don’t know why, but they just do. Roving mariachis have the same affect on me. Fortunately, it’s not so bad that I turn into a rabid Ewok and seek to tear them down. At the same time, I don’t encourage it either. If people want to decorate their cubes, that’s fine. Decorating mine is another story. If any one wants to decorate my cube, all they have to do is put a wall section in the entry to close the whole thing off. When I arrive to work and find that my box has been boxed in and I’ve been locked out, I’ll take it as a message that the company wants me to take the day off. I’ve made such a request to office services several times, however my pleas have gone unanswered.
Much like any farm, crop rotation is important. I’ve been in cubes all over the building just like everyone else. With the latest rotation, I’ve taken on a new neighbor whom I’ve known for years through my “work” there. Yet in all of my time with this company, I’ve never encountered a time where the features of the cubicles have resulted in the subsequent decoration of my own little box. But now, after nearly twelve years, I’ve got accents on my walls the likes of which I never really expected to have before.
So with that my dear reader, I give you Sneeze Guard Decoupage.