July 12, 2006
Addition To Cube Chatter
I meant to include this pic when talking about my new cube earlier...loveit
At any rate, I am:
1. Excited that I went to the gym at work so that I have nothing to do this evening.
1. Embarrassed that because I have nothing to do, I'm posting twice to my blog in one day...
1. Shameful for what I am about to write about.
1. Vowing to never ever talk about work again on my blog (after this post) (well, maybe I'll post a pic of my new cube, but that's it...)
So, after discussing at length my new cube sitiation with T over the phone while I raced home (why? to do nothing) I realized what my freakin problem is. It's what I'm going to coin as the "Nurse Syndrome". I apology to all you nurses out there that may be reading this, but my moms one, my grandmother was one, my roommate is one, and i thought i wanted to be one and worked as a poop scooper (i mean nurses aid) for about 3 years. So I feel I know of what I speak. Anywho, nurses syndrome is when you get a room full of middle aged women together who all make relatively the same pay and do the same job (albeit some better than others), who eventually begin to cycle together (sorry boys) so that they get snippy and spiteful and then Suzy is mad at Kathy for not helping her turn that patient in 354 when she asked for help and Kathy hates Lorie because Lorie's husband is a doctor that she met while working on the floor and so she only works part-time, just so she can "keep her independence" but oh..don't ask her to work on the weekends because Lorie's son Micheal has soccer practice and daughter Tiffany has piano recital and she couldn't miss any of that and hello? remember my husbands a doctor so I couldn't ask him to take the little bit of time off that he has to do stuff like that...and Rebecca, the single mom, hates Lorie too but only because she wishes that she hadn't slept with Joe when they were too young to be doin stuff like that and now she's got 3 mouths to feed and no support and her kids will never get to play soccer because she put herself through nursing school on student loans and prayers and between day care and after school care, and student loan repayments she barely has enough to make ends meet much less pay for expensive soccer uniforms. Oh, and don't forget about Holly. She just graduated and has hopes of one day being a director of the hospital so she's always kissing someones butt and volunteering for extra shifts, well in between her dates with cute young hot guys who are in law school and one of them took her skydiving last week...and omg it was so much fun she tells everyone and even makes one of those high pitched squealing noises as she lands on the N of fun.
So, add several more people to the mix with different backgrounds...MAKE THEM ALL WOMEN...oh...and make them all tolerate each other enough so that they will idly make chit chat all day long about how little their husbands do, how ungrateful their kids are, how tired they are from cleaning all weekend or running errands or how they NEVER get to watch any of the new shows on TV or go shopping because they are oh so freakin busy taking care of everyone else. Oh, and add one other thing: a sweet young new girl, we'll make her Holly in our example. And make sure that all of the older and wiser accountants (oops...I meant nurses) tell her daily how she should handle a tough work situation, handle her personal life, how she should never get married because it's so freakin awful, how she should dress, walk, speak, act in public, etc. OH, and then after all of that unsolicited advice constantly tell her how she's too young to understand that, or how she's too young to know what they are talking about, and sometimes they will even call her a whipper-snapper. But beyond all of that, be nice to her face and constantly remind her of how good she has it because she's not fat or old or married to a jerk who doesn't take the trash out.
Geez...where did this come from?
So, peeps in a very large nutshell, that is what "Nurses Syndrome" is.
And it's been my problem all along. I need to be around younger people who don't try to tell me what my career path should be, or how my love life should be going, or how what I have on makes me look to skinny and geez could I eat a donut or something. Or I need to be around more male co-workers who could care less that T sent me flowers and their wives never get flowers. They'll never even notice the freakin flowers. I need some peeps who know what I'm talking about when I say "did you read so and so's blog yesterday?" And I need them to know what that is not because their kids have a myspace account. I really need them to not have kids, or at least not bring their kid-having-drama to my cubicle. I need for them to know when I'm being serious (only when I'm discussing project related issues) and when I'm not (every other minute that I'm at work).
I'm so excited about my move. I plan to pack everything up on Friday and cart it over one street. And it will be like Christmas unpacking everything..finding new homes for my cube crap...remembering the good old days when I thought that the world was right and just and sitting on a row full of middle aged women was okay...yes, it will be like that.
I'm even thinking about having a cubewarming party. I could register and office depot and thinkgeek.com for cubicle goodies. I could invite all of my closest friends and of course, my new neighbors, and serve punch and cookies. We could play games between my new neighbors, like "who's the best dressed?" "who spends the most time googling their name combinations?" or my favorite, "who takes reading material to the bathroom?" Oh, the fun we could have....
I make no claim that any of the above referenced situations actually occurred, may occur, or could possibly occur in the future. It could be all made up and completely satirical, or it could be completely true. The mystery lies within (oh, and the fact that I really do like my job and want to keep it, so in the event that anyone from that row actually finds my blog, figures out that this could be about them and then decides that I need to be sued, I want to be prepared.)
I had to start putting that disclaimer above after Brittany Spears found the blog entry devoted to her and thought she could do something about it. clickhere