I was sitting in my cubicle clicking away on my dusty old keyboard when the thought of how much I hated my job ran through my head one more time. Every morning when my alarm went off I continued to press the snooze button at least six times before I crawled out of bed. The thought of sitting in a confined area inside a cold building with no windows and no fresh air surrounded by souls that either had no ambition or had lost it somewhere along the way made my spirit cringe with regret.
I wasn’t mad at my boss or upset with my peers. I could care less about the organization. I made my bed and I was lying in it. It was no ones fault but my own.
I complained all the time. I was even upset with the co-workers who never complained and the ones who complained, but did nothing about it.
I gained weight. My back, fingers, neck, shoulder and wrists ached constantly, no matter how I positioned my fat ass. Just three years ago I was welding in a steel factory and never had the pain I experienced since I began sitting all day at a desk. I could find no relief and was slowly becoming an ibuprofen junky. We, my co-workers and I, were like mindless pigeons waiting for the old man to throw us some crumbs. The crumbs were the candy, cakes and sugary treats that were leftovers from clients, vendors and other business owner’s visits.
An announcement was made and we would all go running in packs to the kitchen to consume the leftovers before they were thrown away. Some of us would even push and shove to make sure we got our share – latecomers were often left out. This constant feeding ritual along with the combination of lack-of-motion, no sunshine or natural light and absence of any type of mental stimulation made us all into overweight, obedient, grateful, zombies.
I was never grateful and sometimes mentally questioned myself for not being so. All day I listened to the other zombies talk about how grateful we should all be because we have jobs. They all seemed to hate their jobs. They all complained about each other to each other and about each other to their bosses and about their bosses to each other. I think Wednesday’s and Friday’s made the vicious cycle seem more bearable while sustaining its wickedness. Every Wednesday brought with it the promise of Friday being that much closer. And every Friday brought with it the finale of the torment.
All day Wednesday, in at least two out of five cubicles, you could witness a conversation on how great Wednesday was because it was only two days from Friday. And every Friday the entire organization’s theme quote for the day was “Thank God its Friday”, followed by, “I can’t wait until its 5 o’clock”. Nearly every Friday one of the zombies would look at me and say, “Smile, Angela its Friday, the weekend is here”. I would return the favor by looking them straight in the eyes and saying, “It doesn’t matter because guess what, its all going to start over again next week”. Then I would tell them, “Let me know when it stops starting over, and I will smile”.
I remember one morning walking into the elevator with an older gentleman. He was very well dressed in his fashionable suit and tie. His shoes matched perfectly and looked as if they had been shined only moments ago. He held his briefcase tightly in his hand and stood with confidence as he smiled and said to me, “Smile young lady, it’s a beautiful day today”. I replied, “Yes it is and I wish I weren’t going into this office so that I could enjoy this beautiful day”. His look turned sour for a second, but he quickly pepped himself back up and said, “Well, you go to work, you do your job, and at the end of the week you get a paycheck, what more could you ask for”? I looked up at him and laughed while shaking my head and said, “A whole lot”.
He was laid off a month ago.