Cramped Quarters


As office cubicles go mine is okay. I used to have an office with a door. For my classification, it was too big, but it was in a warehouse–plenty of space. Later I was given a cubicle. It took a while to adjust, but my ego has long since left the job site. All that remains is an old dude ticking off the days until retirement.


Sync and USB cables; oh yeah, headphone cables for when the talk gets too Limbuaghesque for my tender lefty ears. 

About ten years ago I began working on projects that required a lot of testing. After clicking on the wrong icon and testing with live data one day I requested and received a dedicated test computer on a tiny “computer desk” about thirty feet away from my cubicle in the corner of an office surrounded by warehousemen. These are big guys with G.E.D.s, military backgrounds, and big knives.


The workstation is a cramped affair but the walls really start to close in when the guys start talking conservative politics, guns, abortion, fundamental Christianity, and how Trump is going to “fix” this country. Most of the time they don’t ask me about this stuff, and that’s a blessing. I do occasionally talk Bible with them, but keep it superficial otherwise I get the “you’re going to hell” look.

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