There’s No Place Like Home Sweet Cube

We were supposed to move to a new area at work recently.  Of course, everyone got excited and went to the new area to stake their claim…I picked out my new cube, and was looking forward to the move.  Things were looking up at work.   I soon took to going down to my future cube whenever I needed some quiet time.  I quickly adjusted the seat to the way that I liked it, and mentally placed my PC, whiteboard, and comics in their appropriate locations as I sat in My New Home and soaked in the newness of it all.  I smiled when I first saw the “Future Desk of Eduardo Soliz” sign taped to the desktop.

A few days later, we found out that we would not be moving to the new area; it had already been assigned to another team.  (Insert joke about bureaucracy here)   Instead, we will be moving to a different area with “open seating,” which sounds like a big ball of SUCK.  I felt disappointed.  The next day I went down to my former-future work home and sighed upon seeing that my “Future Desk” sign was gone, replaced with some random stranger’s name.

I’m not sure why was I disappointed, or even excited, in the first place.  After all, a cube is a cube; a box exactly like all the other boxes on the floor where I sit for 40 hours a week and make my living.  It doesn’t sound like something to get emotionally attached to, but yet I did.  Perhaps, despite its utility, a cubicle is a home-away-from home.  There, I not only make my living, but I also do some living as well; talking with friends, receiving occasional phone calls from family, and getting things accomplished at work.

On a normal week, those forty hours represent about twenty-three percent of my week, which is a not much less than the time I spend asleep in my bed at night.  When guests stay overnight, I like to tell them about how comfortable the bed is and how much they will enjoy sleeping in it.  (in the Soliz household, it is a tradition to give guests your bed)  Thus, it would be a fair statement to say that I am emotionally attached to my bed.  Perhaps, then, being attached to one’s workspace isn’t the big stretch it appears to be.

Work life might be boring, mundane, and many other unpleasant adjectives, but for what its worth, it it is still life nonetheless…

Or maybe I just need a new job. 😛


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