My day starts at 5 a.m. That’s when my alarm goes off anyways. I don’t actually have to be at the office until 7 a.m. But I consider my work day to start at 5 a.m. because that’s when I need to get up and out of bed so I can get ready for the day. Getting ready for the day consists of a shower, preparing my breakfast and other meals for the day, getting dressed, and then driving to meet my carpool buddies then traveling 45 minutes to an hour to get to the office. Yes, I commute, and it sucks. The commute is probably one of the worst things about my job but I’ve dealt with it for almost 12 years now, so why am I bitching.
The first thing I have to deal with when I get to my cubicle is my cube mate. Not only do they provide this wonderful 6’ x 6’ space in which to slave away my day but they force me to share it with another person. Let me just say that this particular person is a nice guy, I wouldn’t mind meeting them at a bar or at a BBQ, I’m sure we would have a great time, but spending eleven hours a day in a 6’ x 6’ space with this person is torture.
But not only am I sharing a cubicle with someone but I also am in such close proximity to folks directly on the other side of each cubicle wall, with the exception of the cubicle opening which opens into an aisle which runs through the cubicle labyrinth. I was having a run of luck when the person directly on the other side of the wall I am facing was fairly soft spoken so I wasn’t blasted by their voice every day when they were on the phone but now whoever they moved there has the vocal talents of a female public announcer. This is where headphones come in handy. But then again headphones are a necessary to maintain some semblance of sanity in this place. Headphones are permanently attached to my earholes to try and keep out the environment around me so I can focus on what I am doing.
Oh boy another birthday
Who wants to sign the card? Not fucking me, but I do I it anyways since it is being forcibly passed to me. Oh and here comes someone else asking if we want to pitch in a few bucks for a present for so and so. Or how about the shitload of charities passing through the office? I swear, if I contributed to every one of these I would be essentially working….well….for charity. But it’s for a good cause they say. Let me tell you about the charities in our office. One is that for $50 a month they allow us to wear jeans to work. Yay. Then there are the numerous $20 t-shirts that are sold for charities that, if purchased, we can wear once a week. You know what? I honestly don’t give a shit what I wear to work, just as long as it is not dirty (most of the time) and it meets the minimum requirements of the dress code.
Well, that’s all the time I have for this rant of the day. Don’t worry there is more to come.