Confessions of a Cubicle-ite

( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )

One of the painful things I'm reminded about every day of my working life is that you don't have a choice with regards to your co-workers. Unlike a group of friends that emerges over the years, or a joining a fraternity, you have no choice but to play with the cards that have been dealt around you at The Office.
 
Take for example my buddy who injured his foot the other night in a soccer game.  It's already bad enough that the poor bastard has to limp into work hopped up on painkillers so he can save his sick days for when he need 'em (i.e. recovering from a bender, taking advantage of a nice day to play golf or adding onto to make a long weekend) - he knows he gonna run into geek-guy who is such a toolbox that he doesn't realize how lame & tired the joke of fake-kicking your injured foot is gets the shagrin grin and desired "HAHA" out of you.
 
That's how he operates, there is no stopping until desired reaction is generated, no different than anyone's 4 year old cousin. How does this "that guy" not have the social acumen to realize that your glib reply was 180 degrees from your actual thoughts of "How hard would I kick this douche in the gonads if we were anywhere but here?" Some people are just attention whores, and when they are super-lame, it makes it all the more unbearable.
 
Strong odds that the same guy repeatedly fake-kicking the injured foot of the co-worker is also cartoon-and-or-"creative"-tie guy. Wearing a Yosemite Sam, Tasmanian Devil, or insert-cheesy-cartoon-character-here tie should be against ALL company's dress codes, yet it is never expressly written in the HR manual. Cartoon-tie-guy thus gets his rocks off in several ways. One, he feels empowered as he pushes the dress code envelope, albeit in all the wrong ways. Please, God, tell me there is an instance where this guy has been sent home from work for being such a clown. Two, he has created his own sort of Birthday phenomena, as knows he'll drum up attention in cubicleville throughout the day.
 
Truth is, none of his socially normal co-workers will EVER bring up the tie in a verbal manner...it is more of a sigh and facial expression that reads "you've got to be kidding, I really make the same paycheck as this guy?" Tie-guy inevitably adheres to the 180-degrees-of-misinterpretation-rule, and lets out some pent-up laughter..."isn't this tie great? Sucks that we can't wear polos and jeans, so might as well make the best of it, right?" Be on the lookout this holiday season for Mr.-I-want-everyone-to-know-how-light-hearted-I-am. He is the self-appointed Office chameleon, and his wardrobe versatility will be rendering some Reindeer and/or Santa Clause neckwear...guaranteed.

With another season of door buster deals that are "only good till 6 am" fully in swing, I was instructed by my wife to take the truck and go purchase a mattress and box springs for my mother-in-law.  Fortunately I was given an itinerary as to the whereabouts and specific make/model of bedding that was to be acquired.  My role in this holiday shopping escapade was to be the Closer.  Now the Closer is actually one of my favorite shopping persona's, and is one that gives me a superior tactical advantage upon entering any sales environment. 

You see, most folks in sales tend to see a mark when they walk into their domain - that's what they're taught in "sales school".  The simple rules of engagement are:

1)  Greet target with large unbelievable smile
2)  Bait target with assurances/promises of receiving a great deal today
3)  Ignore actual words that come out of targets mouth about what they're really looking for
4)  Up-sell everything
5)  Remind target of the great deal they're getting today
6)  Additional Up-selling, financing or warranty opportunity
7)  Take money and close sale

Now a Closer can take on multiple personalities, two of my favorites are the Kill 'em with kindness (basically, a preemptive attack on all sales tactics where you beat the sales person to the punch while rebuking all efforts in the process), or the Assassin (shoot everything down, with no reasons whatsoever - they pitch, you destroy).  On this particular occasion, I chose the Assassin and proceeded to dismantle every attempt of the salesman at the Sleep Outfitters I was sent to.  My mission was to acquire the package deal advertised on the front page of the flier - nothing more or less.

After a thorough beat down of my adversary, we proceeded to the computer so he could "check the inventory" (another oft used tactic to pressure marks into reconsidering their choices into a more upscale option that happens to be available today) and calculate the discount as - "this deal is sooo good sir that we don't even have it as an option in the computer!"

 As I'm ignoring the futile attempts of this gumshoe, my reconnaissance brings to my attention a bonus objective.  You see while a Closer's mission is successful delivery of the package, there are at times bonus objectives which allow the Closer to capture additional collateral.  These opportunities are usually rare, and require swift tactics to accomplish.

My bonus objective was a mattress cover which was supposed to be offered (as a part of the previously mentioned Up Sale sales tactic) to me during the closing of our transaction.  As the marquee sign at the computer desk clearly read - "If your sales associate doesn't offer one to you - ITS FREE".  Having been in these situations previously, I realized that this prize was a long shot - as even Jr. sales clerks have these key sales faux pas ingrained in their brains (you NEVER want to be the sales guy that had to give something away for free - EVER).  As the paper work printed and signatures were made, I realized this one was in the bag.  I thought I was going to give it away as I broke character for the first time at the end of the transaction and throwing him a bone when I asked "is that it...?"  After he responded "sure is", I returned to character - picked up a mattress cover and asked "...so I guess this is included too then?"  "Uhhh - no..."
he responds, clearly caught off guard and frantically looking to locate his manager.  Much to his dismay, as I spun the marquee sign around and remind him of his store's policy, I see a weakness in the Jr. clerk that managed to break my resolve.  He's the new guy, I figured that out a while ago - and he probably needs this job a lot more than I needed a mattress cover so I allowed him some pride in getting the last words in, "...you're getting such a great deal on the set - I can't afford to give you the cover for free too..." 

Sure I could have made a scene, demanded to speak to the manager, or even worse berated him in front of the other customers in the store - but a good Closer knows the priority of the objectives, and sometimes you have to let a fish go when you don't have the fight in ya.  As I shook his deflated-limp hand on my way out of the door I wondered if I had done him a disservice by not crushing him for the mattress cover - they say you learn more from defeat than victory.  Did he realize what had happened, or did he believe he'd actually won?  Who knows - maybe he did...maybe he did.

Why is it not possible to make the Right Decision at the Mcdonald’s drive-thru? I planned on treating myself to a delicious sausage mcmuffin this morning. One. Singular. And as I’ve done the last 56 times, when it’s my turn to yell at the speaker box, the word "2" comes flying out of my mouth. I am dressed in a suit, but there is no hiding that I’m a dumb animal. I was actually satisfied after devouring the first one, and knew that each bite on the second would bring exponentially worse consequences. Yet here I sit in cubicleville with a stomach full of regret, and pathetically I know with 100% certainty I’ll make the same decision next time I roll thru the Golden Arches.

I found a blog which led me to a website that is all too hilarious not to share. Now, for those of you who 1) did not own an NES, 2) did not have a friend who owned an NES, 3) don't know what an NES is, 4) never experienced the joy of playing Super Mario Bros., Final Fantasy, or Duck Hunt, please go along your merry way and read the previous or next entry.  Loser.

For the rest of you educated, well-cultured individuals, enjoy the following. I'll be peeling beets on the farm.

I stumbled upon 50 NES Quotes Every Gamer Should Know which made me want to collect coins, fire arrows & toss bombs, smash on goombas, shoot ducks, and walk aimlessly through foreign lands with a group of wizards and knights.


Please visit the website and revel in the glory that was the 1980s. Make sure your capacity for nostalgia is at its peak for the day.

My favorite Quote 46 from the website is as follows (I won't ruin #50, it's a doozie):

What it's from: Duck Hunt
The context: You let up to two ducks escape, probably because you're a limp-wristed PETA-loving moron. The dog is gonna laugh at you.
Comments: Duck Hunt is supposed to be a light-hearted game about teamwork. You play the role of a heroic hunter proudly protecting the American skies from a dangerous onslaught of evil fascist ducks with the help of your trusty dog. It is the perfect partnership; you blast the ducks out of the sky and your dog snaps their slender, sexy necks to make sure they're dead. Occasionally, you will fail your country and let one of those freedom-hating ducks escape. When that happens, it's time to man up, stop pretending that you can aim, and stand three inches away from the television screen.

Take that PETA.

I had another strange experience this morning. At about 930am, one of the owners made the rounds thru cubicleville and informed us we were having an impromptu meeting in his office. The caveat…it was "Guys Only."

After being herded up, we are informed that there has been a breach of standard Office Code: someone keeps leaving their business in the 2nd stall without flushing. Additionally, scraps of toilet paper continue to amass on the floor surrounding the jon. We are all made to feel like criminals, as the deadly stare progresses from one side of the room to the other.

I am the first to speak up. "Which stall do you consider the ‘2nd stall’?" The response comes forth, as I am immediately tabbed as a likely suspect, given my outward approach during the inquisition. "The one next to the urinal." Already knowing I am not the guilty party, I clear my name in front of my male brethren. "Well, just so you know, I always use the first stall. Also, in case everyone doesn’t know, ever since we got the new toilets after the remodeling, you have to hold down the flusher and wait for your junk to go down all the way."

This should’ve brought a sense of vindication, as I was the only one not to clam up. Instead, I get disapproving looks from around the room that imply, "Guess somebody’s got a guilty conscience." After a few final remarks from the boss about keeping our recently refurbished Office neat & tidy, the meeting is adjourned. While I know full well that the case of the Phantom Pooper should still be wide open, I believe I’ve been prematurely convicted of a crime I did not commit. Sometimes being the youngest cast member doesn’t pay dividends.

As the holiday season descends upon us along with road trips to visit the inlaws and excessive amounts of holiday cheer, I am already dreading the unavoidable interrogation from my relatives as they inquire "what do you want for Christmas?"  Whenever I hear that question, I immediately take a long drink from my holiday egg nog as my blood pressure begin to rise and I wonder - how on earth do these people who have known me my whole life not understand how simple this is?

Aside from the fact that we both know you're going to give me either 1) cash, or 2) a gift card already - can you really be telling me you don't know me by now?  I'm really NOT a complicated individual, I like golf, watching football & college basketball, eating/cooking BBQ, pizza, gambling, attending a handful of live sporting events and 2-3 road trips a yr. with the boys to decompress from the real world.

So it doesn't matter if it's Christmas, Kwanzaa, my birthday, father's day or even the 4 of July, if you're truly at a loss of what to get me, or for that matter, what "I want to do", just fill one of those gems in and we'll be just fine.  It works, I promise - I might even flash you a genuine smile when I open it - or perhaps a tear of joy...either way my blood pressure will be lower and I won't have to make up some BS about not needing anything this year because I have everything I need.

Oh yeah, Happy Holidays

To further Schrute's point, the age-old "employee opinion survey" is a timeless classic. This allows employees to vent their frustrations with a cloak of anonimity. Hmmm, I wonder what topics ALWAYS become red-flagged as needing adjustment for morale purposes.

At my previous employer, there were some Earth-shattering results from the most recent survey. Employees had indicated they desired a higher base salary, better 401k employer-match options, and improved work-life balance. Shocking.

Where I give credit to HR and the higher-ups is in their execution of the roll-out of "major company changes in response to the employee opinion survey". This is where they are able cast a spell over the masses, illiciting the dumb-animal "hey! they actually listened! this company truly cares about my well-being!" response. In this personal example, indeed the 401k match was raised (albeit to a still poor percentage), and a new plan was hatched to allow the herds of hourly trainees to flex out, thus improving their work-life balance.

But let's look below the surface a bit. Now salaried & commissioned middle-management was picking up the slack on hours lost from hourly trainees flexing out, as the workload didn't just magically disappear. While the 401k was bettered, the profit-sharing plan quietly and mysteriously was phased out. And after awhile the dumb-animal herd of trainees caught on that their paychecks were dog-meat without any overtime. Yes indeed, the Morale was superb for about a month, Whooo-Hoooo!!! Better get a move-on towards the next employee opinion survey so we can let our voices be heard again!
 
Final Thought on Schrute's take...I find it ironic that the company was searching for ways to improve officeplace Morale, and simultaneously telling people they're not allowed to write something as harmless as "Go Bucks!" on their whiteboards...outstanding.

Dinder Mufflin has its fair share of fruitless HR activities which I'm convinced are initiated solely to justify the existence of the HR cost center. I have yet to deduce any other rationale or reason for their being. Don't get me wrong, I don't think these individuals are inherently bad or uneducated, merely the projects and initiatives which they are "forced" to impose on the diligent, money-making members of the team.

More recently, we've had a run on associate engagement, which I will call Morale for the remainder of this blog. I mean, really? I am merely the assistant to the Regional Manager, but even I know that management's time is crucial and there is no good reason on this green Earth as to why hundreds of managers have been stuffed into various conference rooms to talk about Morale. Someone obviously failed to complete a cost-benefit analysis OR in lock-step with my commentary above, HR received such analysis and elected to move forward regardless.

This morning, our team met for over an HOUR to discuss how we can improve our Morale. In case you're wondering, the answers were not handed down from God, CEO or department head. Clearly, we, as worker bees, should come up with action plans and steps to improve our own Morale.

<I digress, but I was just told that the White Boards that we have in our cubicles can not contain phrases such as "Go Knicks, "Go Tigers" or "Go Bucks">

Well, here's my recommendation for improving Morale? $$$$.

That wasn't hard, was it? All the money that was wasted by having high-level employees sit in conference rooms across the city (not to mention all the paper and books that were printed) could already be in the wallets & pockets of the employees...

Now, don't get me started on those White Boards...

Another “I don’t get how this is possible” moment on the way to work this morning.  The Fox Sports radio guy I listen to in the morning, usually getting preference over M&M these days, is Steve Czaban.  He is one of the folks that has openly bashed Tony K. for not knowing his own business.  At 7:55am this morning, he and his cronies are discussing the Wisconsin vs. Cal-Poly game, where the Badgers embarrassingly won by a point b/c Cal Poly missed 3 extra points. 

Here’s where I take issue: Czaban apparently was not aware that when a I-A team plays a I-AA opponent, there is no line posted.  His reaction was something along the lines of “What? Who decided this?  What do you mean there was no spread on the game?”  While I have lowered the bar considerably over the last few years with regards to what I expect, knowledge-wise, from sports-type-for-a-living guys, I am still amazed by little nuggets like this that turn up.  The egregious part in this case is that he has weekly segments where their entire crew goes game-by-game picking every pro game & the important college games against the spread. 

Is it time for me to look in the mirror, and say “Andy, you need to get a life, people who do this stuff for a living don’t care, you are obviously neglecting your wife and child by storing semi-worthless sports knowledge in your brain”?....

No!  I will not submit to any lowered standards! 

My theory is this: Once upon a time, there were about 5 guys that had the true Dream Job as SportsCenter anchors.  There were rumors that in order to get the job, they had to pass ridiculous trivia-type tests, with questions such as “Who won the 1971 Kentucky Derby?”  With the advent of internet menusha, sports talk radio, and “ESPN, The Ocho” not too far off, the sporting culture has been exponentially diluted. 

Now we have Sage Steele on First Take mispronouncing names all over the place, chicks on the sidelines asking retarded questions, guys not knowing about point spreads, and even our athletes not knowing the game is done after one overtime.  I’ve got a call in to Al Michaels requesting that he spread the word of the necessity of reformation, before we are past the point of no return. 

One thing is for certain…You can bet your mortgage that Al knew about the no-spread-against-I-AA-opponents tenant.

As I adapt to my newfound life at The Office, I continue to come across situations to which my cherry must be popped.  The latest: I have been victimized by a co-worker’s child’s elementary school’s fundraiser.  I have no need for a gallon tub of chocolate chip cookie dough.  Not only don’t I have a need, I truly don’t want it in my house. 

My reasons are many.  One, without an excess freezer in the garage, who has the space in their primary freezer for a gallon of cookie dough?  I had to pitch several items recently just to make room for our canister of coffee, now I face the dilemma of a cookie dough tub.  Two, whenever cookies get made in our house, we eat like 9 a piece the first day, get stomach aches, feel guilty that we just devoured 3000 extra calories for no reason, and I end up taking the rest to work.  Upon getting the cookies to work, I feel like such a tool for being “that guy” that brought a Group Snack Platter to The Office that I inevitably toss them in the dumpster.  Three, I get cookie cravings about twice a year.  If I am going to throw down wasted calories, it will fall under the headings of Beer, Liquor bevs, Pizza, or any of a various assortment of meat products. 

So, why have I made this regrettable $13 purchase, which I have not yet paid for and will undoubtedly have to get hounded to pay?  Is it based on my desire to charitably donate to English Estates Elementary and their 3rd grade all-stars?  Have I been overtaken with the spirit of holiday giving?  Did the kid’s mom, aka middle-aged woman at The Office, make a personal & flirtatious sales presentation?  Negative.  The culprit was peer pressure, plain and simple.  As the sign-up sheet was handed to me, I noticed all of the cubicle-ites had already made their selections for Chocolate Chunk or Peanut Butter or Snickerdoodle. 

I was the last one, and everyone else had already agreed to terms.  Taking the role of Lone Ranger would surely illicit the scorn not only of Little Johnnie’s mom, but word of my parsimonious ways would blaze thru the cubicles like a dropped cig at the gas station.  Seeing no alternative, I made my selection of chocolate chip, and I’ll await the second and third round of payment demands. 

I should tip off the guys at the local street intersection who swallow their pride and wade thru traffic with their “Hungry & Homeless” signs, as there will surely be a gift in our back dumpster come mid-December.

I really don’t think it’s because I’m emotionless or cold-hearted, both of which I’ve been accused of by my wife several times over.  My defense is that I just like to look at situations in a vacuum and use logical deduction as a rational person.  But I digress from the subject line, which is Birthdays. 

Many angles of society have come at me with the supposed importance of obnoxiously celebrating birthdays, e.g. Hallmark, my wife, my sister, certain friends, co-workers, etc.  But I have yet to hop on board this train, and don’t think I ever will.  I understand the landmark b-days of 16, 18, 21, and then every one that ends in ‘0’ starting with 30.  These signify, respectively, the right to drive, official adulthood, legal boozing age, and then every decade after 30th it’s like a “hey, you made it!  Not every one else did, congratulations!”  But when it enters the workplace, AND it’s not a landmark b-day, WTF.  I don’t put the full blame on individuals, as people have been trained from a young age that they almost literally own that day on the calendar, and the world should stop and bow down to them because certainly nothing else is going on that day besides celebrating the life and times of Susie Q. 

Ok, so people have been brainwashed as kids, but is it really necessary as a grown adult to float out the “I can’t believe they make me work on my birthday!” statement?  While it is often thrown out there seemingly in jest, to get a quick HAHA from their fellow cubicle-ites, you know that they actually were serious and truly cannot believe the gall of an employer forcing them to work on their Special Day.  The entire day’s work is wasted on staring at the flock of balloons and mess of flowers that has overtaken the cubicle (which I contend 50% of the time is sent by the b-day person themselves as a matter of garnering attention.) 

I am still on the fence of whether laughing or teeth grinding is in order when there is a cookie cake, circa my 3rd grade classroom birthday parites, waiting in the employee kitchen to celebrate Susie Q’s b-day.  And the irony of the whole thing is that once you’re past the age of 30, it’s somehow not appropriate to ask and/or know what age they are turning.  Let me get this straight…all this self-appreciating, random acts of food eating, crazy balloons, talk of “I can’t believe I have to work today!”, and you won’t discuss the central point of the whole deal? 

I declare that any work-related b-day celebrations going forward need to toss HR regulations out the window, and if you are going to subject everyone else to acting like they care about the day you own on the calendar, you must post your age on the company email server.  And be willing to sit in a dunk tank.  

First, I spend far too much of my life thinking about trivial BS like inept football announcing. 

In yet another “banish Tony from the booth” moment, I now have greater understanding of why Tony’s rants have nothing to do with actual football knowledge.  Apparently he has openly “bragged” that he doesn’t watch many football games, or many sports on tv in general.  This is your JOB, you arrogant bastard! 

Perhaps it’s simple jealousy on my part, knowing there’s a job out there paying high dollar to haphazardly follow sports and give half-assed yet colorful commentary.  I suppose I cannot fault my wife, or most of the rest of society, for not understanding why I derive such pleasure/pain from breaking down worthlessness like Korny’s commentary. 

To further this point, I thoroughly enjoyed on Fox Sports Radio this morning when, for 10 minutes, they broke down all of the head ref’s bio’s in the nfl.  Why should I give a damn about this?  But alas, I do. 

Secondly, am I the only one that feels like Microsoft hired a 3rd grader to insert the “green underlines” when you are supposedly grammatically incorrect?  I literally find myself arguing with this phantom editor daily....