Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

thoughts

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Speaking of epiphanies: i am beginning to think of the stapler remover as the vampire of the desk supplies. I imagine that, after i leave, it slinks out of its place in my desk organizer and proceeds to terrorize my pens and highlighters mercilessly until a brave and intrepid pencil takes it upon itself to plunge itself as a stake through the remover’s cold metallic heart, leaving only a scene of scattered writing implements to hint at the terror that preceded it.

In the morning i always find myself thinking, How did my desk wind up so messy? Surely i cleaned it last night at 4:59, as is my wont. But now i know.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2003/05/200302161/

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Say what you will about being a corporate employee, but there’s something to be said for the feeling you get when you enter your boss’s office to discover her scrambling frantically to locate the report that you spent the last weeks compiling because it’s absolutely key to her three-thirty presentation, which is to say: you are somewhat dismayed that your spiffy white binder of findings had been so easily misplaced, empowered to see that your work is indeed an important keystone in your departments archway of communication, and secretly jealous that you cannot tag along to reap the obviously forthcoming compliments on your deft handiwork.

In other news, i learned that an employee is “absolutely prohibited from developing her personal website while at work even if she does so during her lunch hour.” Lucky for me, the policy seems to only apply to female employees. In your face, female employees!

https://crushingkrisis.com/2003/04/200200388/

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My spectacular view from the 35th floor has proven itself to be no solution to today’s pervasive dreariness. A panoramic image of my city opens up just past the faux-mahogany lip of my cubicle, displaying clearly every still, gray eave and chimney from here to the nearly-obsolete Stadium (a distance that was almost infinite to me as a child, now seemingly so simply to fly across).

Honestly, the view left me longing for my lunch break; i’d much rather be inside the fog than above it.

In other news, Elise has confirmed the existence of my rooster after the debut of its new 7-7:30am time slot. Not only did Elise hear it in person today, she kindly offered to strangle it with her bare hands. At least now the crowing actually overlaps with a time that i have to wake up. Meanwhile, corroborating reports have emerged from Meg and Amanda, the former of whom lives over two blocks away.

Lindsay and I conducted a sparkling discussion on the height of cubicles as a status symbol over a health-conscious lunch of salads & Snapple. (Oh, the difference a year makes). In my first nearly coherent attempt to describe our director, i claimed she was “Like Karen from Will & Grace (except not shrill or drunk) if she was surreptitiously being made to listen to Strange Little Girls in her sleep.” Not the most succinct description, but i’ve only been working on it for five days now.

Life isn’t so bad, is it?

https://crushingkrisis.com/2003/04/200098268/

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I’m all for cubicle-to-cubicle conversation. It’s healthy; it keeps one sane in the midst of a cube-jungle corporate office. However, when you happen to sit between the verbal cubicles (whose occupants are not on your team), and when the conversation floating above your head turns for the third time to how incredibly “dreary” (“I just get the urge to walk in there and splash yellow paint all over the walls!”), and “gloomy” (“I just think of death the entire time i’m there!”) the local neighborhood funeral parlor is, at that point i think you should keep it in your own damn box. And it’s only 8:20 … not to mention that i don’t think they saw the subtle irony of me blasting “God” through their entire conversation to try to down them out.


Ahh… office life. A fuller treatise still forthcoming.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2003/04/200090542/