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Dear Diary,

I have not written to you in a while. The three B’s (Brian, Brandon, and Brian) still remain at work. Somebody counted the phone list today, comparing it to the old phone list. Minus 20. That’s about a quarter, 25%, of the company. Niftiness. I no longer work with a computer on a 24-inch deep shelf in a hallway with leg and neck cramping action. I got in this morning:

IT Dude: You get to move into a cube today. Pick one of these cubes.
Me: One of which cubes? It’s hard to tell which are free, they still are covered in crap the “let go” people had.
IT Dude: One of these three.
Me: The small one, the small one in plain view of everyone who walks past, or the really big one in the back that is far away from people and has a huge window? I’ll take that one.
IT Dude: Need help moving your stuff over there? Oh, and tell the other Brian when he gets in to take one of the other open cubes.

An hour later, I get a voicemail: tell Brian to hold off on the moving. Tell everyone. We’re not sure those cubes are yours anymore.

Halfway through the day from a neighbor cube that had been absent the first half of the day: You can’t move there. That’s going to be Shirley’s cube. “Huh?” You can’t
move there, who said you could? You can’t just take any old cube you feel like. “IT told me to move here this morning. I’ve been here all day.”

So, I guess the cubes belong to people who primarily work at home and are only in the office one or two days a week…?!?! Ummm…can’t they take the shelf–I mean desk–in the hallway?

Everyone can see the red (well, actually, burgandy) stapler on my desk. What they cannot see is the 1966 Government issue guide to improvised incendiary devices out in the trunk of the car. 😉 “Ummm…If they ask me to move one more time, I’m going to light the building on fire.”

Posted in: Work

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