Sunday, August 10, 2008

Moving Madness

My company recently went through a 3 month (I'm being conservative here - I actually think it was more like 6 months) project to build more offices (yay! Interior offices! No one really wants a window), re-form the cubes to keep "cube envy" at bay, and most importantly, I think, to the woman in charge of this project, more closely cluster people who work together.

Now, I had been sitting near people in a different group than I was in. This is not surprising, as my team only consists of 2 people. And my boss has an office. So obviously, I'm the only person in my group in cubeland.

This was troubling to our office manager. Who I'll call Violet.

About two months ago, when Violet was wandering around the office, surveying the masses, mentioned, "Marcia, I think I'm going to move you."

"Anything you want, Violet," I reply. As it is, we're only allowed to get 3 pens at one time from her. I fear that if I rock the boat, I'll somehow be limited to only 2.

A month later, my boss moved into her new, smaller office. Maybe 25 feet away from me. Literally, we could see each other.

Two days later, Violet came up to me. "Marcia, I'm going to move you on Monday or Tuesday." I cringed as I had to tell her I would be out of the office those days. I didn't want to lose my pens! Even though they're only Papermate, they're all I have access to. "Alright," she says with a sigh.

Wednesday and Thursday pass, and I still have not moved. I'm pretty sure which cube is mine, but I've had no confirmation. It's 20 feet from my old cube, and about 10 feet closer to my boss's office. Which, you know, is enough utility to make this move a necessity.

Friday morning, I come in, and I see this on my new cube:

Myrtle's Note

Finally! I think. I get to move!

But the day starts to pass. No Violet appears to tell me I'm going to move today. I go to lunch. I come back from lunch and notice that I have a voice mail. I call and try to get it - but it rejects my password. I look at the display on my phone - it is no longer my phone number. The move may at last happen!

A few hours later, I am in my boss's office, and a friend comes by to tell me that the IT guy is looking for me. About 20 minutes later, I track him down. In reply to his question, I tell him he can move my computer any time, and then he asks me where I'm moving to. "I haven't been told," I tell him, sheepishly, "but my name is scribbled on a scrap of paper in that cube over there." The IT guy nods, and seems to think that is enough.

Two hours later, I'm all moved, but I have no phone. Mysteriously over the weekend, it appears.

And don't get me wrong - I love my knew cube. It's really close to the printer, it's positioned in such a way that my boss can't sneak up behind me and see what I'm doing, and it's larger than my other cube - which was the standard non-cube-envy size of cube. But my new cube has a huge blue pillar in it that makes it impossible to configure normally - and requires it to be 150% the size of all other standard cubes for people in my position. To which I have to say: Fuck yeah.

1 comment:

Logan said...

If you accidentally peed inside the cube, it'd be a sure-fire way to secure the cube as yours forever. Nobody else would want the pee-pee cube.

Alternatively, you could moan about how the pillar gets in the way of everything so as to avoid cube envy from people in smaller cubes (Lillicubetians?), but there's really no fun in that.