Farewell Office

After months (almost a year), I am leaving the office that barely knew I was here. For this splendid occasion, I have composed a few sloppy and sarcastic words. Just to seal the deal, I’ve included some commemoration clips. Three cheers for me!!!!

Dear Office –

Farewell to thee, fare thee well.
After months, we part.
No sweet sorrows for thee, sorrow’s sweet not for thee.
In with a dither, out too.
Commutes to you no more, no more commutes to you.
The Temp fades, traces remain.
Farewell to thee, fare thee well.

Sincerely,
Me

The Office
Office Space

——- Tahoe here I come! Time to Celebrate Good Times… Come On!

Cake Day

I stepped out for a walk during my lunch hour yesterday. You know, to get my legs moving enough to keep my ass from going numb (numb-ass is just one of the many splendid results of spending hours on my butt). When I stepped out from the gloomy office building and into the warm sunlight, I was forced to shut my eyes. The direct sunlight actually made my eyes feel like they were burning. *Eeeek…. blind!*

This simple reaction irked me because it made me feel out of character. I used to spend lots of time outside. So much so that my hair turned blonde from the sun — instead of being the caramel color that it has become over the past months. I want grass under my toes and I want sunscreen to be a part of my daily apparel again. STAT. Damn windowless office space.

Ah, c’est la vie.

But today, let’s celebrate the glory that is Friday! When you work in an office filled with cubicles and fluorescent lighting, you start to appreciate even the most pathetic ‘morale boost’ events put on by the management staff. In my humble corner of the modern working world environment, the event that makes everyone cheery is Cake Day. Once a month the office celebrates employee’s birthdays with cake, cookies, and beverages. Oh goodie. So, in honor of this blessed day of munchies, I am supplying you all with a classic office related Cake Day clip.

Office Space
Pass the cake? Heeeell no. This is my single allotted, monthly piece of office contentment.

Dream Dicer 2000

It is quite an image, really—the way the beautiful white paper slips into the metal teeth. With a murmur of content, the jaws slice the delicate sheet into threads of incomprehensible refuse. One more dream, one more hope, one more option out with the unclaimed faxes. ‘Paper shredder’ hardly is a suitable name for a device that greedily mangles my attempts to build a career. What title is more appropriate for the vile machine? Dream Disemboweler Pro? Dream Dicer 2000?

It reminds me of that scene from the movie Office Space. Yes, you know which scene: the introduction to the cursed fax machine that has a mind of its own. Sure, the Dream Dicer is not guilty of faulty conduct, but my frustration for it is the same as the angst portrayed by Michael Bolton at Inotech. For whatever reason, all of Michael’s irritation with the office pours into the malfunctioning fax machine; mishaps that turn into a full outburst. 

For every day that I continue to sit at this desk—in a grey cubicle, without the possibility of another job to pull me out—I find that I loath the merciless Dream Dicer more because it continues to shred my hopes into confetti without hesitation. Instead of jamming or stuttering, like the Inotech fax machine, the shredder greedily functions. In this case, a stutter would be appreciated; it would be like a sign to tell me that all the hopes inked on the paper are not entirely out of reach. Instead, it is as if the Dream Dicer knows that my attempts to escape are fruitless. The damn machine is heckling me.

Watch your back Dream Dicer. Now, *looks under desk*…where is my bat?