You can call me whatever you want. You can call me "little cube" with love, you can call me "jail" with hate. Or you can call me "The F***ing Hell" with disgust. I don't mind. All these are chords of euphony to me. I am the silent spectator of quite flowing lives in your firm. The world renowned private firm, Intel. Your office.
I see you everyday. I see you in different times in different moods. In different uniform, with different friends. Leaving the insignificant few hours you spend in home everyday, I am always watching you. I have seen you to deceive your boss while engaged in those computer games, without a tint of shame. And last Friday night, when you told your wife you will be late because of work while fixing some other appointment on the chat window.. I closed my eyes. You spilled coffee on your keyboard and told the maintenance person that you don't know why your keyboard stopped working. You whispered on your office phone making all personal STD calls without feeling guilty. I know all your sins. I am your cubicle.. you are bound by me.
Don't worry my friend. I was a part of your sufferings too. Do you remember the last year appraisal day? You came back after the meeting with your boss. Oh boy! You should have seen yourself. You looked like a figure of dejection. A crestfallen hero. I wished I could shade some tears for you. I wished I could pat on your shoulder to tell you how many such stories I have seen here. Stories like yours. How many hard working talented people got dumped because of reasons far beyond my comprehension. I wished I could exaggerate their later success stories to you. After all, I was the only witness to your over night fire fighting for the next day release. I saw your blood red eyes starring at the computer, when your hands were shaking on the keyboard. I witnessed those thundering discussions with your team where you were trying to make your point. I saw a drop of sweat coming from your nose tip, when every one shook their head in disagreement.
Last Monday your boss came to your seat and yelled at you like a street dog. I was then recalling a morning, few years back, when he was standing like you and listening to his boss in the same place. Time changes, people changes. But the cubicle stories don't. They are flow of life.
Today I heard Mr. O'Brien laughing on my wall colors. "I love what you guys have done with the color here. I think the gray
looks very nice with the gray and works very well with the grayish
blue." Yes, your company led the cubicle revolution in the 70's. Yes, I was the role model of many companies' offices for decades. But no more. Slowly but definitely, the world has changed. Today Mr. O'Brien told me "This is good. There's no individuality. There's no hope."
My days will be over soon. Its the age of advance communication and not of incubation. Its the time when people work from home. They work while traveling on train, while trekking on the hills, while having dinner with family, while playing with kids, while listening to music. They come to office late and go home early. Home is their office and office is their home. No office needs these wooden structures scattered on the floor any more. But.. before I go obsolete, before my name gets removed from all the dictionaries of the world.. I would like to ask you.. "Is this the life you want to live? Do you call this life?"
I see you everyday. I see you in different times in different moods. In different uniform, with different friends. Leaving the insignificant few hours you spend in home everyday, I am always watching you. I have seen you to deceive your boss while engaged in those computer games, without a tint of shame. And last Friday night, when you told your wife you will be late because of work while fixing some other appointment on the chat window.. I closed my eyes. You spilled coffee on your keyboard and told the maintenance person that you don't know why your keyboard stopped working. You whispered on your office phone making all personal STD calls without feeling guilty. I know all your sins. I am your cubicle.. you are bound by me.
Don't worry my friend. I was a part of your sufferings too. Do you remember the last year appraisal day? You came back after the meeting with your boss. Oh boy! You should have seen yourself. You looked like a figure of dejection. A crestfallen hero. I wished I could shade some tears for you. I wished I could pat on your shoulder to tell you how many such stories I have seen here. Stories like yours. How many hard working talented people got dumped because of reasons far beyond my comprehension. I wished I could exaggerate their later success stories to you. After all, I was the only witness to your over night fire fighting for the next day release. I saw your blood red eyes starring at the computer, when your hands were shaking on the keyboard. I witnessed those thundering discussions with your team where you were trying to make your point. I saw a drop of sweat coming from your nose tip, when every one shook their head in disagreement.
Last Monday your boss came to your seat and yelled at you like a street dog. I was then recalling a morning, few years back, when he was standing like you and listening to his boss in the same place. Time changes, people changes. But the cubicle stories don't. They are flow of life.
Today I heard Mr. O'Brien laughing on my wall colors. "I love what you guys have done with the color here. I think the gray
looks very nice with the gray and works very well with the grayish
blue." Yes, your company led the cubicle revolution in the 70's. Yes, I was the role model of many companies' offices for decades. But no more. Slowly but definitely, the world has changed. Today Mr. O'Brien told me "This is good. There's no individuality. There's no hope."
My days will be over soon. Its the age of advance communication and not of incubation. Its the time when people work from home. They work while traveling on train, while trekking on the hills, while having dinner with family, while playing with kids, while listening to music. They come to office late and go home early. Home is their office and office is their home. No office needs these wooden structures scattered on the floor any more. But.. before I go obsolete, before my name gets removed from all the dictionaries of the world.. I would like to ask you.. "Is this the life you want to live? Do you call this life?"
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