Hi Um... Ho

Last week, in a scheduled early morning meeting, my supervisor called me into his office, shut the door, then turned to me and said, "Well, the good news is that you're safe."

My first impulse was to swear - loudly.

Thankfully, however, I was able to practice restraint, and so I sat stonefaced the remainder of the meeting while nodding at certain key points. Good news? Safe? Jaysus, Mary & Joseph, Mr Supervisor, whose pipe you been smokin' and what was in it? Perhaps you and I differ on our definitions of "good", but missing out on a four month paid absence does not necessarily a happy man make.

You see, times are more than a little tough at the company I work for. So much so, that about two or three months ago they announced that layoffs would be occurring (they weren't so bold as to use the term 'layoff' anywhere though. In typical corporate speak, they preferred "expense and head count reduction.") At the time of the announcement, I, like most of my fellow employees, was more than a little nervous, and numerous questions littered my tiny little mind. Would I be among the forsaken? How would I deal with the sudden loss of income? I totally sweet talked my way into this position - how on Earth would I ever find another job?

To make matters worse, I had every reason to suspect I'd be handed a pink slip. For one, I'm easily expendable. I don't say that to demean my position by any means, but my role is primarily a training role. I (supposedly) learn a lot about many different things, but operations will certainly not come grinding to a halt if I'm not there. Also, one of my managers (perhaps the one who had the most input regarding my future employment status) seemed unusually distant after the initial announcement, and I of course decided to read too much into it. Yup. I was gone. I knew it, and I was legitimately concerned...

...until they announced the severance package.

Two months notice (during which you were not expected to work) followed by an additional two months severance with health coverage for the entire four month span. Essentially, four months of vacation on their dime. FOUR MONTHS!

Screw future employment. I'll take the severance package, thanks. Suddenly, my internal discussions focused not on how I would scrape up enough cash for Ramen when the inevitable layoff occurred, but what exactly I'd do with all that free time. After all, there were so many movies to watch, books to read, hours in which to play Warcraft, further hours in which to sleep, lots of places to travel, etc... ALL of it would be at my fingertips, and I couldn't wait.

Mind you, I'd been through a layoff before and it was definitely a less than pleasant experience. I'd arrived at work one day in 2001 (hungover as all hell I might add, which only made things worse) to find that I was no longer needed. Kindly leave immediately and take this small severance with you. And so I did, but at the time I was fairly bitter about the whole thing. I was in a much different situation personally and professionally, and given the market at the time and my general lack of experience in my field it took me much longer to find a job than I would have liked (although in retrospect, the layoff was exactly the kick in the ass that I needed for reasons I won't get into here.)

But... well, this time around, they were just so damn nice about the whole thing.

"Everyone will be treated with dignity and respect during this tough time."

"We realize people have families, etc, etc..."

It was a completely different experience. This time, they talked a good game, and backed it up with a tremendous "goodbye" package. Further, not only did we know well in advance that layoffs would be occurring, we knew the EXACT DAY they would take place. There were almost no secrets regarding the process. And so, for a good month, I went to work still thinking I'd be gone, wondering whether or not that was a good thing, and waffling back and forth on which outcome I'd prefer (but secretly preferring the layoff. Wait, no I wasn't. Er... yes, I was. No. Yes. No. Yes.) Always though, I kept my relative unimportance to the company in the back of my mind and thought that more than reason enough for my layoff.

And, maybe because I thought it a foregone conclusion, I started noticing things I didn't like about the company; things I'd be glad to be rid of after my dismissal. Examples? The corporate atmosphere for one. Truly loathsome words and terms like "value-add", "metrics", and "leverage" are thrown about with such reckless abandon, you might think you're in a high school physics class, but no, at work they take on completely different meanings (it took me months to figure out that "leverage" - used, for some reason, as a verb - essentially means "to make use of existing resources.") The bathrooms are nasty, too. They smell, and are tiled in beige and dark brown, the color of... well, you know. Leftover hand wash water is all around the sinks, and people aiming their paper towels for the wastebasket often miss and don't bother to pick them up. I could go on, but it's pointless and petty. Nitpicky stuff, for the most part, but stuff you notice when you allow yourself to.

And so, when the fateful day occurred last week and I was told that I was not going to be laid off, and that I was, in fact, going to receive more responsibility, well, my stomach did a few loop-di-loops. I said all the right things, and appeared interested when I was supposed to, but in the back of my mind I kept thinking, "Man! Four friggin' months! And there are coworkers of mine who would kill to be in the position I'm in. Wonder if they wanna trade?"

This whole process has made me question a lot of things about myself, not least of which is whether or not I want to continue down my current career path. These are not easily answered questions and I think I still have a lot of soul searching ahead of me (to say nothing about fear of the unknown.) But, for now, I'm going to take this lack of an event the same way I took the layoff several years ago - namely as a reason to be grateful, and a way to get myself in gear and place renewed focus on my job. Easier said than done, in a lot of cases. Today, for instance, I sat in a department meeting and felt completely lost, having no idea what people were talking about, and having even less desire to find out. "Care" (as in 'I do/I don't') seems to be in rather short supply these days, but give me a minute to catch my breath, please. I'm still trying to get over the fact that I actually have to work for a living.

Peek-A-Boo

I hate my desk.

Er… sorry, the desk is fine. It’s functional, and it works, but I hate my cube. It sucks, which is a shame because when I first started this job I was so looking forward to making its acquaintance and maybe becoming friends. I was prepared to embark on a slow, steady period of learning, discovery and growth with it – together, as comrades-in-arms.

Not anymore. Not with this hell spawn of a cube. It has betrayed me, utterly and completely, every single day.

Prior to taking my current job, I’d worked in environments where cubes were discouraged. “They’re isolating” the decision makers said. “They decrease productivity by cutting you off from your co-workers. They extinguish the free exchange of ideas!” True enough, but their lack, while perhaps making for a more efficient workplace, also makes for a more resentful one. I can exchange ideas with my co-workers in normal conversational manner, but I can also get hit by their sneezes, hear their intimate phone conversations, and smell their farts. My co-workers are also more apt to open up about things like “how Edgar and I shopped for Rolex’s this weekend,” and “oh, did you SEE what he was wearing?” And, the reverse is true too. You think my co-workers want to feel closer to me as I’m blowing my nose into a snot rag for the umpteenth time? Of course not. That’s repugnant. So why expose people to all that? Isolation – that’s the way to go!

You can, therefore, imagine my delight while being given the initial tour of my new workplace and seeing cubicles, cubicles everywhere. “We treat our cubicles with the respect and dignity they deserve”, said the anonymous HR person showing me around. “Love yours as you would one of your own offspring.” I told her I didn’t have any. She frowned, then shrugged, then faded slowly into the mist to await the next new hire in hopes of providing needed guidance. Indeed, the oracle had spoken – but not before bringing me to my own cubicle and telling me to get settled.

My initial excitement quickly turned to shock, and then dismay. Surely there must be some mistake. The cube - MY cube, was, and is, in the middle of an open area, snuggled nicely at the intersection of two hallways – the cubes entrance at their vertex. How could they have placed a cubicle here? Moreover, how could they have given it to me? ME, who had been waiting all my adult working life for this moment! This wasn’t privacy. This was exhibitionism! People walking up the hallway from twenty feet away can see inside! They can read my email! They can see what I’m surfing! THEY KNOW WHEN I’M WASTING TIME!!!

“Settle down” said the anonymous HR rep while reappearing out of the mist, “it’s only temporary. The area where you would normally be sitting is under renovation so we’ve had to place you here for now.”

…

That was four months ago. Nothing has changed. I’m still in this godforsaken dog box of a cube and, true to form, it broadcasts everything I do to the people passing by outside. Check my personal email? They know. They can read it, in fact. Surf on over to ESPN.com? They tut-tut in derision, while studying Manny Ramirez’s OPS. How do I know they’re there? I can hear them as they walk up the hallway (in fact, I’ve learned to identify individuals by the sound they make when they walk. A person’s weight, gait, and shoe clunk can give their identity away – no joke), and I can see them looking in as I turn around to give them an icy glare. Oh, they’re there alright, and they’re paying attention. Even the quickest of alt-tabs into Excel or PowerPoint can’t escape their prying eyes. Hell, two days ago, the participants in the company sponsored Weight Watchers program had their weigh-in ten feet away. What do you think they did while waiting in line? One of them went so far as to comment on the incoming cold front after I checked the weather on Boston.com. All this, thanks to my cube who says nicely to passerby, “Come! Look what my occupant is doing! Come see how he wastes away the day!”

My cube’s just as evil twin brother lives on the other side of the hall. Its occupant has resided there for far longer than I’ve been in mine, and she’s subject to the same absurd lack of privacy. Lately, I’ve been paying close attention to her to see if I might learn some techniques to counteract the brazen trickery of my own cube. No luck. The rest of the company is destined to know what we’re up to. Lately, she’s taken to removing her laptop from the docking station and using it directly, in the hopes that its monitor is small enough and that her body would act as a shield big enough to prohibit passersby from seeing its display. I planted myself several feet away from her cube’s entrance and, much to her surprise, told her that her efforts were in vain; that she wasn’t fooling anyone and that I could still read her Yahoo mail, and that if anything she looked guiltier than before. I then wished her luck in clearing up her bad credit.

And so, for the moment, I’m reduced to a boring life of actually doing work, toeing the company line, and being an efficient little worker bee. I long for the day, though, when this cubicle that I’m in will be torn asunder, and cast to the four winds; when I can surf the Internet without fear of being caught or having my work ethic called into question; when my personal email is MY business and no one else’s. Then, my friends, will be a day to rejoice. Until then, I wait in joyful hope for the coming of my savior, New Cube That’s Out Of The Way… and I weigh in at 150 pounds.

Alt-tab.

Something's Wrong Here....

At lunch today there was a veritable smorgasbord of possible choices in our employee cafeteria. Among the notables were sauteed chicken and mushrooms over rice; a tuna panini grilled to your liking; baked stuffed haddock with rice and fresh vegetables; parmesan pasta with chicken and broccoli...

There was also a delicious looking medley of meats and onions labeled simply as 'Danny's Sausage Fest.'

...

I kept looking for the hidden camera. I may go back and look again. If I don't find one, I may set one up.

By the way, I opted for the soup and salad.