A Day at Work or How My Brain Slowly Decays

Dead Men Walking – 9am

Lowered faces, hallowed eyes, and heavy sighs as people collapse into worn mustard yellow office chairs. Microsoft “Welcome” music sings in almost-unison as computers start. Some carry tall, grande and venti cups of coffee. Others, without the time and patience, make their way to the kitchen to fix bitter (free) coffee from Sumatra (labeled from same coffee shop).
I add three hazelnut-flavored creamers to mine.
Nick, one of our bosses, stands at the center of the rows, hands clasped. He’s a charming Italian guy who started working here after me and got promoted only because he was male and (just started working on it, mind you) getting his MBA. The disdain for him subsided after only a month because he was too damn captivating; not to mention, fucking attractive.
“Good morning everyone,” he says.

(Some mumbling and incoherent gruffs; several clear replies back.)
“Can I have everyone hop into e-mails please, then chat logs? Thank you,” Nick says and returns to his seat to check his e-mail.
This is a call center. This is your work:
1. E-mail guests (mostly children) with complaints about life

2. Read said children’s (and some adults’) logs from chat rooms formed by big family-friendly conglomerate company

3. Punish them for not following big family-friendly conglomerate company standards.

4. Repeat cycle.

 

Conversations amongst Peers in Row behind Me – 10am

“Are you a folder or a crumbler?”
“What?”
“A folder or crumbler? In the bathroom.”
(Pause.) “Folder?” (Pause.) Wait, no, crumbler. Actually, I kinda do both. I fold and crumble. It’s not like the most perfect fold, you know? Just enough where I can get a full wipe and keep my hand clean.”
(Pause.) “TMI dude.”
“You asked!”
(Sounds of clicking keyboards. Another group two rows away breaks out in laughter at an unrelated subject.)

Much-Needed Break – 11am

It’s funny how easily smokers are able to congregate. All you need is the nicotine smell and the clink of a lighter. Talk at first starts out with “You smoke?” then “I started ___ years ago,” thus starting a conversation entirely about smoking. It begins with how bad it is, then how many are trying to quit while others boast of their bad habits. The rest talk about their enjoyment of the occasional huff or admit to liking its easy community. It’s quick, easy, and painless. Conversation flows like Niagara Falls.
If it’s not nicotine, it’s coffee or tea. Some shared stimulant to make it through the rest of the day and promote dialogue.
The gossipers flock to the middle of the courtyard, sitting in patio furniture. The watercooler is so 1995.

Stop Counting Minutes to Lunch and Start Getting Work Done – 12pm

Don’t. Close. Eyes.
Must. Think. About. What. To. Get. For. Lunch.
Stop.
Focus.
Don’t Close Eyes.

Lunch – 1pm

Decisions, decisions. It all depends on how lazy I am:
- Do I want to drive a car somewhere? If not, I only have a two-block radius to work with.
- There are a few sit-down restaurants. Are they quick enough for one hour? Not all the time. I’m not taking chances. Out.
- South: a burger shack. Tempting, but since I don’t have a high metabolism like most of the men (and some females), it’s best to stay away.
- North is a market, an Americanized Greek chain, a bakery/café and Chinese food. Along the way: pizza, hot dogs and overpriced contemporary Italian food. I don’t feel like walking. Out.
- West: Mexican food with a C score. Thai food with huge proportions. Calorie intake for both: four days worth.
- East: More burgers, sub sandwiches, markets and Mexican food. Too far. No.
- Across the street: the aforementioned big coffee chain. A second on the list sub sandwich place. They know my order and quick with it. I also get a discount. Win.

Food Coma – 2pm
….

This Must Be Purgatory – 3pm

Those with lives start planning on what to do after work.
The rest look forward to bed and re-runs.
Everyone’s eyes are glued to the clock.
Don’t. Fall. Asleep.

Last Break then the Mind Begins to Wander – 4pm

Smoke [a] cigarette[s]. Buy/make myself a cup of coffee.

(Break ends.)

Sitting at a desk all day glued to the computer creates problems. Fat people are getting fatter. The blind blinder. The skinny, happy, pretty people stay skinny, happy and pretty.
Wouldn’t life be better if I pursued rock star status? Never mind if I can’t sing.
What am I supposed to eat when I get home?
Is it bad if I want to sleep with my boss?
I should invest in more cats.
Is it 5:30 yet? Fuck.
Time for more coffee

Losing it – 5pm

Chat logs. Chat logs. Chat logs. Chat logs. Dinner. Chat logs. Chat logs. Chat logs. Chat logs. Chat logs. Nick. Chat logs. Chat logs. Depressing. Chat logs. Chat logs. Chat logs. Chat logs. Sleep. Chat logs. E-mail. Chat logs. Fucked up. Chat logs. Chat logs.
Fuck this shit. Fuck this shit. Fuck this shit. Fuck this shit. Fuck this shit. Fuck this shit. (Emphasis on the fuck and shit.)

Light at the End of the Tunnel – 5:30

There’s a god.

[Enter time in known business-management application at 5:55]
[Leave office at 6pm.]
[Fight traffic and asshats – get home by 6:30pm.]
[Bed – 7pm]
[Start the cycle all over again – 6:45am]

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this job, it’s that stupid people become stupid parents and breed new generations of stupidity that we have to deal with for thirteen bucks an hour.

© 2009 Daryn Houston

1 Comment

Filed under Fiction

One Response to A Day at Work or How My Brain Slowly Decays

  1. I agree with everything that was posted in this article, I am a faithful follower so make sure you keep updating so frequently!

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