It’s five til eight and I’ve been here for twenty. In the dark I came. The dark was surprisingly light. And now solitary piano echos through the empty cubicles surrounding. The dreaded red light was flashing… “no, what could someone want now?” I lucked out… the answer machine required no new tasks of me.
The normal routine emerged… fill the cup, insert tea bag, nuke for one minute and fifteen seconds, apply sugar, stir with two coffee stirr sticks. Only today breakfast came from a noodle cup (yes, Robin, I ate it early today).
I don’t mean to sound ridiculously pessimistic, but isn’t it funny how four years of college is exchanged for a five by five cubicle and we consider it a good trade? Oh, but if you go for at least two more years and get your masters… then, oh by golly, then you may get a five by five and a half office space… nevermind the extra accrued debt.
But if you love what you do…?
But I just think the mere lifestyles of “office dwellers” entertains me. Same cube, same routine, same… same… day in and day out. And we call this life.
No wonder we create hobbies.