Making It Up As I Go Along

Between cross-referencing indexes and analyzing spreadsheet quotas, I managed to watch Raiders Of The Lost Ark last night. It's been years since I watched it.

Gosh - I'd forgotten how fun it is. I remember my dad taking me to see it when I was a kid. I was glued to the screen - and I mean one of those super epoxy glues. It was just so awesome! Harrison Ford was just so cool as Indiana Jones. He could do anything - and did! I wanted to be him and have that adventurous life - be that rugged and heroic.

I wore my jeans jacket all summer long - no matter how hot it was - and in my mind the blue cotton was worn leather. I bought come lightweight rope and figured out how to braid it to make my own bullwhip - which I practiced with in the backyard, whipping pop cans and fruit. When I managed to explode an apple with one whip crack, I just about did backflips I was so excited. That was one of the best summers ever... and I didn't even have a fedora...

I eventually outgrew the jacket and it was donated. I really can't remember what happened to my cotton rope bullwhip.... I lost it I guess.

Sometimes I wish I still had them. The jacket. The whip. The ability to roll with the punches and still keep going - no matter what - with no outline or plan or spreadsheet to tell me what to do...

Or like one of the best lines in the movie " make it up as I go along "...

... I still want a fedora....

Memo's The Word

Sorry... been a few days. Three times I went in to write an entry and... found I really had nothing to say. I actually tried typing in a few post titles, hoping that it might help generate a worthy topic. But I'm afraid that  Tuesday Is The New Monday, Water Cooler Blues and A Fax To Grind may have been initially promising... but ended up empty, shallow and listless.

Not that Memo's The Word is any great attention grabber. But it's what I have..... anyway... there's been some whispering going on that the company might be under attack by a competitor and may be taken over. Upper management - and Mr. Sledge in particular - are even more keyed-up and on-edge than they usually are. The regurgitated air-conditioned air is thick with the smell of nervous corporate sweat.

No one's even been yelled at or demoted in three days.... it's strangely quiet. Even Jerry has stopped gloating about his new ' cubi-cooool '(as he's been irritatingly calling it). Everyone' keeping their heads down, hoping not to get noticed in case some sacrificial lambs might keep the wolves from the door.

And me? Well... if it happens, it happens. I doubt anyone would even notice the slightest change around here. The grey walls and fluorescent buzz maintain a sense of stability, order and iron-clad sameness that is highly resilient to change and dulls any attempt at provocation or upset.

Nothing changes the status quo here.

Or as the most recent company motto states: Business First. Business Last. Business In-Between.

.... it's in the memo.

The Corner Cubicle

I can hear Jerry on the phone from here... telling everyone he knows - including his Aunt Gertie, apparently - that he's moved up around here and on to bigger and better things.

Jerry just got a corner cubicle.

I have to admit it is a pretty choice bit of real estate around here - if you're into that sort of thing.... which I guess Jerry is. He's been drooling over that spot for months when word went around that Mitch might be leaving. It's all he's talked about at lunch, in the elevator, at the urinals.... I wouldn't doubt that he's got a picture of that cubicle on his fridge at home to help shape his destiny.

Well... it's his cubicle now. His prize location. Bob asked him if he was going to have the place repainted, while Doug asked when the first barbecue is going to be. Everyone was crowded around for a few minutes when he walked across the aisle from his old cubicle - cardboard box of files and his 1997 Office Putt trophy (back when they used to do those sort of things) in hand to stake out the spot.

He seems really happy. Even gave a little speech. Something about ' his cubicle is our cubicle '.

Good for him.

..... I guess......

The Smell of Success

The cleaners did an exceptionally good job last night. They really must have scoured the carpet for some time. It has to be about half-a-shade grey lighter now and really almost brightens the place. And the air now has the fresher-than-real aroma of pine-scented cleanser... ahhhhhh ...when I inhale, and close my eyes, I can almost imagine that I'm in one of those shopping mall food court gardens... or at the very least in a car that has just been detailed... such a nice change from the air in here.... the smell of stale coffee and stale small talk.
It really is quite bracing and invigorating.... and as I inhale deeply again and again and again and again, I wonder if it will give me an enhanced sense of purpose... and speed... and energy.........and .....wow....the room is really spinning...... wow... how'd they do that.........

Having a heat wave

I hear it's really hot outside.
I don't know if that's true or not because the AC here keeps everything at a steady temperature all the year around - no matter if the snow is whirling or the sun is baking. Inside, it's always the same. Actually, you could say the same about just about everything in here. Same temperature, same air since the '80s (none of the windows open) same buzzing light fixtures, same faint aroma of carpet cleaner. Everything kept at a persistent level of sameness. And, since the windows are generally hidden by my cubicle walls, it could be day or night outside and I wouldn't notice a difference.
It's kind of like an isolation tank, I guess. (Not that I've ever tried one - not after that movie with William Hurt when he turned into a crazed caveman. Boy, that really freaked me out.) But... I imagine an isolation tank feels pretty close to this.
I guess the only difference is an isolation tank is supposed to free you... change you... and be enlightening...
.... I wonder if William Hurt ever worked in a cubicle...

Mondays...

Monday...
That word strikes fear and loathing all over the world. Although it is spelled many different ways: Lundi, Mandag, Maanantaina, Lunes, it still means the same thing... you have to go to work. I think Monday's malevolent reputation goes back to our school days for most of us... the creeping dread that starts around 3 o'clock Sunday afternoon, the shock of the alarm clock at 7 AM.... remembering that we didn't finish (or start) our algebra homework...the horrible feeling that there's nothing you can do about it... or to paraphrase that old Jack Nicholson movie: " Forget it Jake, it's Monday..."

... on the bright side, only five new piles of paperwork showed up in my cubicle today - before lunch - and only three this afternoon... it was a slow day...

More of the same...

Yes... I'm at work today. Yes.. I know it's a Sunday... that seems to be my lot.  The paperwork just never stops - and so neither can I. It isn't like I have any other pressing places to be today, so I might as well come in and chip away at the pile to make room for more tomorrow.

At least I'm not alone in all this. I can hear Bob at his keyboard four cubicles down the row and I'm pretty sure I glimpsed Jerry between stacks of paper three rows over. You'd think we might take a break together and grab some lunch, but that seldom happens. Come in. Work. Go Home. That's about it.

If only Agnes worked on weekends... but she never does. She takes work home with her on Friday because I think the train schedules on weekends make it not worth her while - so I guess she doesn't see the point.... just like she doesn't see me....

Anyway... back to my work....