not falling down

We got new evacuation instructions for our building today. Before, we had to alternate in the east and west stairwells by floor, which was a pain to remember. Now, the instructions are to go to the east stairwell if you’re on the east side, and the west stairwell if you’re on the west side. You got to whichever stairwell is closest. It’s that simple!

In the last ten minutes, I’ve heard two people come up and ask the Lady in the Next Cube whether we’re on the east or west side.

Overheard from the next cube, on the phone, just now:

“I know! I put a big… oh em gee exclamation point exclamation point!”

There is a new Lady in the Next Cube.

LitNC: “You know what I think? They need to–grow some, and tell that bitch–they let her run that place. You know? She’s an adjuster.“

Strutting around like she owns the place! She’s a loose cannon! She can’t be trusted! Hand over your badge!

Nobody’s working very hard today, because our team supervisor is on vacation (this also makes it unofficial Casual Day, so my shirt is untucked–party!). I actually am working, but only because I’ve been a slacker most of the week so far; several of my co-workers are having a conversation about food, one cube over. I just overheard this:

Coworker 1: I’ve eaten lots of things, I’ve eaten sheep–

Coworker 2: Oh, well that’s normal…

Coworker 1: –intestines.

Then I burst out laughing, which totally blew my cover.

Says the nonexistent scuttlebutt: Lady In The Next Cube still exists and works here, just on a different floor. That’s nice.

The Lady in the Next Cube is gone, either fired or transferred. Her place has been cleared out except for an empty datebook and an old McDonald’s toy (one of hundreds she used to have). It’s a sad day. I knew her name, but I’m not sure she ever knew mine.

The lady in the cube next to mine is pretty vicious with her voicemail system; I know this because she always uses it with her speakerphone on. It sounds like this:

CLICK TOOOOONE

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Meridian Mail. Mailb–”

BEEP BOOP BEEP BEEP

“Passw–”

BEEP BEEP BOOP BOOP BEEP

“One fifteen pm, June–”

BEEP

“You have one n–”

BEEP

“Hi, this is Gary with Midwest Accounts. It’s around ten till one, and I was just returning your–”

BEEP BEEP

“Message era–”

CLICK

Overheard just now, from the cube next to mine:

“It’s been a month now, and there’s been no kickback. And it’s like I was telling John earlier: we may have a problem here.”

The lady in the cube next to mine would appear to be experiencing difficulties with her computer. This has been the soundtrack over the past couple of minutes:

BEEP BEEP

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

BEEP

(long pause)

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP

BEEP BEEP

BEEP BEEP

(softly) “Son of a… gun.“

Lady In The Next Cube must be having a rough day–she turned on the radio at 0900 and hasn’t turned it off since, which means that since the batteries are dead on my Discman, we both get to enjoy it. As I told Maria, I now understand that they really meant Soft Rock Music. All Day Long.

So yeah, basically I’ve spent the day trying to decide whether I could crash through the plate-glass window wall, and if the resulting fall would kill me. Soft Rock Hits. All Day Long. I didn’t think I was going to make it, but then–could it be? Yes!

I was saved by Wham!. Careless Whisper came on and revived my flagging spirits by reminding me of the BNL live cover to which Jon and I used to rock out in college. Glory be.

It was quickly erased by Sheryl Crow, of course, but still.

Pain is A-ALL YOU’LL FI-I-IND!