working in an office sucks. you sit in a cubicle with your back to a window (if you have a window) and go through the same mundane tasks every day. you look forward to your lunch hour, which you usually spend at your desk, eating and typing and working, even though you're not paid for that hour, but you feel like you're wasting time if you actually take time off for lunch. you think about going outside for a walk, about getting some fresh air, but that pile of invoices won't wait, so the idea of seeing the sun in the early afternoon fades to a far off dream meant only for weekends. slowly you realize that your life continues in one unending, sludgy routine. to fight it, you decorate your space with as many photos and drawings and dilbert comics as you can to remind yourself that you're unique and your own person. you try to convince yourself that this beige office doesn't define you.
and then the day comes when you realize that it didn't work.
- i came in today and picked up my water bottle and headed to the kitchen, and in that time passed four different people from four different departments, and when i greeted them, they all responded the same way:
'morning. how're you doin?'
'i'm here.'
note to anyone: if i ever genuinely respond to a question like that, please throw me down a long flight of stairs.
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