My co-worker of 16-years The Mate, our resident Aussie, and I are cubicle warriors. We refer to management as The Doors, due to their offices. The Mate and I have been around long enough to have earned double-wide cubes.
As the elite of The Cubes, we are the middlemen between lessor cubes and The Doors. Our company has seen fit to hire more and more Doors, pushing The Mate and I into less desirable Real Estate. We lost our window views and they have squeezed our double-wides into a cube-and-a-half. More of a XL cube than a double-wide.
My biggest complaint about The Doors, other than their sketchy job descriptions, is when they see fit to leave their doors open. I'm not sure who they are talking to on the other end of the phone line, but I can tell you the other party is not getting in a word edge wise.
I figure by the time The Doors decide to replace The Mate and I with younger, less expensive models, we will be working out of the broom closet. It is like the movie Office Space without the humour.
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