I work in a cubicle. To be fair, I work in a building but my workspace, is in a cubicle. It is spacious enough, though not as big as my previous cube which I dubbed The Giganto-Cube. I had to give that space up and have since moved on to other real estate, around the corner and down the way, near to my boss and the chatty little whats-its in finance. I seem to have room for all my stuff, my copious amounts of stuff, and have found a home for everything. My notebooks, my extra promo items, my running duffle bag, my extra running shoes, my purse, my other purse, my extra purse, that backpack that never quite makes it home, scarves in case it gets chilly, mitts in case, well, it gets chilly, old expense reports, new expense reports, reciepts that oddly enough didn’t match up to ANY expense reports, catalogues, books, lunch snacks, quirkly little magnets with sayings no one really gets, oatmeal, my gosh the oatmeal, and, well, you get the idea. I have put up pictures of my kid, pictures of my friends kids, pictures of my favorite football player and my favorite football team and my favorite football logo and of course, the football schedules and if I had my way I’d roll up another chair and have my favorite football quarterback come sit by me every day, just because.
My cube? Is colorful. I know this for two reasons. One? I like color. And two? I was told by my new, um, cube neighbours, that my cube is, how shall we say….bright. Which it isn’t really, not in the blinding-oh-my-god-I-wear-my-sunglasses-inside kind of bright. I am just simply not all about the white file folders and army green hanging file folder holders. I do not enjoy the black pens or blue pens only please ma’am. I do not want a black mesh pen holder for the black and blue pens either thank you very much. Nor do I care to adorn my off white slotted wall space with off white paper holders and off white paper dividers and off white everything and anything. Nope. I like color. And apparently, I stick out.
All that aside, I would have to say that my one real and true pure hate that I experience living my 8(ish) hours in cube land everyday? I CAN HEAR YOU. I can hear EVERYTHING YOU DO. And you? Are kinda gross.
I do not need to hear any scraping, chomping, shmocking, clicking, god almighty help me now WHISTLING. I do not need to hear your conversations with your husband, your doctor, your mother in law or your mechanic who even I know is ripping you off. I do not need to hear that You Tube video that was SO FUNNY YOU ALMOST DIED, or that song from XFactor that made you cry last night, or your opinion on the football game that would get you throttled in a post-game-parking-lot-beat-down if you ever had the guts to say it out loud to my actual face. What I need to hear? Is you being quiet. I LIKE the sound of you working. I LIKE the sound of you thinking (not out loud, though, just in your wonderfully quiet little head). I even like the sound of your keyboard clicking away because if you’re typing you’re likely not eating or talking or otherwise disrupting the peace and serenity of this place we all share called Cube Land.
I do my part. I make my noisy phone calls from another space. I make my personal calls from another space. I go see people who have their own space if I feel the need to converse. I talk quietly when people come to MY space. And I eat my food as though puppies would die if my decible level rose above “Whisper Quiet Library Decible Level of 30dB” (yes, I looked it up).
So people, please. Hush. You can do your thing. Just do it quietly. For the love of puppies.