Gaaaa! You miserable, petty, fucking pool of cuntdribble!
:: deeeeep breaths ::
Ok…for reasons that are pit-worthy on their own, everyone at work is switching cubicles, but that’s not what I’m pitting.
I was told that I would not have to move, and considering the amount of viney plant life I have intertwined throughout my cube, that was wonderful news. It turned out to be a lie, but that’s not what I’m pitting.
It’s a two-day move, and even though the cubicle I’m moving into is empty, the brilliant minds behind this still scheduled me to move on the second day, forcing the person who will move into my cube to wait*****, but that’s not what I’m pitting.
What I’m pitting is one of the managers, whom we’ll call DeeDee, and her apparent problem with plant life. As you can see here, my old cube was well-stocked with plants. It’s not that I’m really that big on plants, but whenever someone who had plants left the company, I always seems to inherit them. The one to pay particular attention to is the Golden Baby Ivy stretching upward. It’s climbing a string of rubber bands that runs from my cubicle wall to the ceiling.
When I first put hung that string about six months ago, I wondered if anyone would have a problem with it. I thought perhaps maintenance would have something to say about me tacking things to the ceiling, and I knew DeeDee could always be counted on to try and flex any sad bit of authority she can manage. To my surprise, nothing outside of compliments was ever said.
Now, the cubicle I’m moving to has a large column next to it, and I thought it might look nice if I ran the ivy up the side. I stuck a few thumbtacks in the column and threaded the ivy. As I was setting this up, DeeDee watched from her cube. A couple of times I looked over at her, gave her a civil nod, and continued what I was doing. No reaction.
As soon as I finished, she leapt up and ran to my direct manager (she often leaps up and runs over to other managers – I assume she thinks it gives her an air of urgency and importance). A minute later, my manager comes over to me.
(For visualization help, imagine my manager as a nicer version of Bill Lumbergh, except he talks at a normal rate)
“Sorry Hal, you can’t do that.”
“Can’t do what?”
“Run your plants outside of your cubicle like that.”
“Well, calling that ‘outside of my cube’ is a bit of a stretch, but ok. So, why can’t it go there?”
“I know, I know…it does look nice, but DeeDee said you can’t do that.”
“Ah. DeeDee said that. Gotcha.”
(In my mind, “So, you told her that she has no fucking say in it and to cram it straight up her ass, right?” followed, but my manager is non-confrontation personified.)
"Yeah, I know, but this is her department. "
(Actually, no, it’s not – and that’s the problem. I’m part of the only group in this room that is not part of DeeDee’s little fiefdom. She manages Customer Service. I’m part of Integration, which falls under Technical Support, which was broken off from CS because DeeDee was incapable of realizing that you cannot run a Tech group the same way as a CS group.)
Now, my problem here is not so much that DeeDee is a fucking tool who can’t stand people doing their own thing. It’s that she had to scurry off and involve another manager in this. She watched the entire time I was hanging the ivy, and there was really no mistaking what I was doing. If she had simply come over to me and said “Please don’t do that”, then I would have shrugged, said “ok”, and went about my day. But geez, lady…if you have something to say to me, fucking well say it to me. Yes, it sucks that it had to come down. Excuse the shit out of me for adding a little bit of color and life to this pathetic, sterile, grey and white atmosphere of cubicledom. But I’m fine with hanging it the way it used to be – as long as you ask me, and not make a big issue of it.
So, the rubber band string is back in action in the new cube. I moved the taller plants to the other side of the cube, to create more of a privacy screen. I’m curious as to what tomorrow will bring, as DeeDee’s part of the move will shift her from sitting about 60’ away to sitting two cubes away. With a rubber band string of ivy right in front of her.
*****Actually, my moving day is officially tomorrow, but I moved much of my stuff on my lunch hour today. It’s this kind of reasonable action and initiative that DeeDee finds incredibly threatening for some sad, pathetic reason. Cuntbag.