The Total Idiot’s Guide to Living in Cubeland

I don’t care about your plans for the weekend, unless we’re friends.
If we’re friends, come by and talk to me about it.
If we’re not friends, have your little chat about your weekend plans at a lower decibel level.
I have things to do.

I think it’s great that you bring your breakfast to work.
I’m sure it’s much healthier than stopping by Micky D’s or wolfing it down in the car.
I do not, however, want to hear every lip-smacking bite you take.
Especially from three or four cubes away.
Feel free to close your mouth and chew more quietly.
My kids get excused from the table for manners like that.

When you answer the telephone?
You don’t have to yell.
If the connection is bad, ask to call that person back.
Yelling during the entire conversation makes the person on the other end of the line deaf.
It also makes me deaf…
And grouchy.

If you get a box delivered to your cube and it contains packing material?
Feel free to empty the box without popping every bubble in the bubble wrap.
Pop it all in the car on the way home or something.
And the giant wads of paper inside?
They don’t actually contain anything–they’re just there for cushioning.
You don’t have to open each individual piece–AS LOUD AS YOU POSSIBLY CAN–to verify that there’s nothing in there.

You also don’t have to slam the drawers in your cube.
Or the flipper doors.
Or bang on your desk.
Or pound on your keyboard.
Or tap your pen.
Or slurp your coffee.
Or talk to yourself.

If you live in Cubeland North and you have sent me an e-mail requesting action?
Do not come to Cubeland South and stand behind me to see if I get it done.
I can use e-mail as effectively as you can.
And I am much more efficient than you are.
Standing over me makes me grouchy…
And slow.

If you don’t do the job I do?
Don’t ask inane questions or make inane comments about how I should best get that job done.
I understand my job very well.
That’s why they pay me the big bucks (insert sarcastic eye roll here).
I don’t question your knowledge unless you give me reason to.
I haven’t given you a reason to question mine.
It’s a waste of my time.
And it makes me grouchy.

If you brought your cell phone to work?
Put it on vibrate or turn it off.
If you can’t make that happen, don’t leave it at your desk.
Because I don’t want to listen to it ring 50,000 times.
The next time you do that?
I might answer it for you.
And that might make you grouchy.

These are pretty simple things, I’m thinking.
If you’re struggling with understanding them, go to this site to check out what the “experts” have to say.
Their opinions are right in line with mine on this subject.
They’re just less grouchy.
Probably because they have an office…

With a door…

That closes.

Here’s Your Sign

Thanks, Lynda, for the link to the Warning Sign Generator.  It’s pretty funny.  All of y’all check it out HERE to make your own.Here’s mine (in honor of all of those folks I mentioned in my previous post, What’s Your Plan?, that need to be told about climbing erupting volcanoes):

What’s Your Plan?

It must be that time of year. Both my company and my husband’s company have done training on the Emergency Response Program within the last week. If you work in Corporate America, odds are you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about here. We all get together, in a hot, airless room, and review the finer points of what to do should an emergency occur during working hours. I am a planner, and I like to be as prepared as the next guy (or gal), but it seems like these little programs get sillier with each passing year.

My review included such nuggets of wisdom as “How to Handle a Bomb Threat Phone Call” and “What to do in Case of Tornado.”

I liked the bomb threat discussion most. The very attractive PowerPoint Presentation advised us to keep the caller on the phone by asking questions like:

Where is the bomb?

What activates the bomb?

How big is the bomb?

How powerful is the bomb?

Are you really that mean that you would want to hurt people? (No, really. It was on the slide.)

One of my co-workers questioned the wisdom of antagonizing the would-be/could-be bomber with questions about his/her level of meanness. Seriously. And like I would want to stay on the phone with someone phoning in the bomb threat (and wait for it to blow up, or what?) rather than getting off the phone with the aforementioned looney-tune and call the police?

It got better in the tornado section when we debated the best place to go inside the building. Yeah, the basement would be divine–but we don’t have one. Doesn’t everyone already know that you’re supposed to go to the lowest point, center of the building, away from the windows? Do we really have to argue about it? And someone mentioned dialing 9-1-1. That sent several in the room into another flurry of chatter, over whether one would actually have to dial 9 first, like 9-9-1-1, or whether just plain 9-1-1 would work. Thank the Good Lord our Voice and Video expert was present and could advise us that either would work. In fact, either would work, AND it would alert the 9-1-1 folks as to our exact location. Isn’t that inherent to the 9-1-1 system unless you’re using Vonage or something?

My husband’s company upped the ante in their manual by reminding everyone of the following:

“It is dangerous to climb an erupting volcano.” (Because we have so many of those in our area… And if someone is dumb enough to climb an erupting volcano, doesn’t that just fall into the whole Survival of the Fittest thing?)

“A blizzard is when strong winds combine with falling snow to reduce visibility.” (Wow. I’m glad someone shared that with me. Because the news clips of every blizzard in North America–and the fact that we live in a state where blizzards happen just about annually–wouldn’t have been enough to assure that I actually knew what one WAS…)

“If you find a suspicious package, you should NOT smell or taste it.” (Because that would have been my FIRST inclination.)

I think the best plan is just to have everyone sign off on a piece paper saying that they will a) use common sense in a case like this, or b) run screaming from the building and perish if there’s something really bad out there, or c) take home the whole freakin’ manual and memorize every little section because they’re not smart enough to know what to do already. I never cease to be amazed at the actual information Corporate America has to provide to its employees. The sad thing is that someone, somewhere created the need for briefings like these..

At least I get paid hourly…

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Common Courtesy – Just Do It

It seems that folks just don’t have the common courtesy gene anymore. And perhaps I’m more grouchy this week than most. Whatever the reason, people seem to be rubbing me ALL the wrong way. I think there are a lot of folks out there that could stand to find some manners. Maybe they need a class. Whatever it is, these are my suggestions (today) for improved common courtesy.

At the Store:

Parking your cart sideways in the aisle at Wal-Mart? There’s just no reason for that. The aisles are small enough already without your cart causing a bigger traffic jam than the 405 has ever seen. And when I say, “Excuse me,” nicely, you could try not to sigh and roll your eyes like I’ve just asked you to dig to China with a grapefruit spoon.

“10 Items or Less” means 10 items or less. It does not mean 11 items. It does not mean “My 25 items takes up less room in the cart than your 9 items.” If you do not know how to count, re-take Kindergarten, or find a good website that can teach you how. Check with your kids. Maybe they know. If you show up in the Express Lane with 11 items, or 25 items, or 13 items, or any number of items more than 10, expect the dirty looks from those around you and expect me to laugh the next time I see you in the Express Lane with 2 items, right behind some guy with 25.

If the line behind you is not empty, feel free to NOT chit-chat with the checkout person. I don’t care if she’s your long-lost Aunt Thelma and you haven’t seen her in 30 years. I have four restless kids that have already removed every item from the endcap, dinner to make, laundry to be done, and phone calls to make. I don’t care to stand here while you two catch up on your whole lives for the past 30 years. You want to chat while your credit card authorization is going through? Fine, I’ll give you that 10 seconds. Otherwise, exchange phone numbers and drive on, already.

And when you leave the store? Stopping to examine your receipt in the middle of the Exit doors is not appropriate. Back to the whole “bigger traffic jam than the 405″ thing. You could actually go all the way to your car and check it out there. You could even stop outside the store, to the side of the Exit doors, if you just don’t want to have to go all the way back in from your car to get your 30 cents or whatever back. Either way, I’m sure you could find a more reasonable spot to verify the checkout person’s accuracy than right there. Did you not see the flood of people behind you?

In the Restaurant:

If you have not paid to rent the whole place exclusively for yourself and your loud party, feel free to lower your voice at any time. There are, in fact, other diners around you that might enjoy being able to hear themselves think over your ridiculously loud story. Even better? They would probably like to have a nice dinner, and some conversation… which is why they’re in the restaurant in the first place. Look around. If people are staring at you and the only sound you can hear is yourself? And no one else is laughing? Try eating instead of talking.

And when you actually eat? Please, for the love of God and all that is holy, chew with your mouth closed. Italian food is really appetizing on the plate. Not so much when it’s half chewed and falling out of your mouth. And if you’re sitting right behind me in the booth and I can actually hear your lips smacking? Try to remember that the starving children in Ethiopia don’t need to be saddened because they can hear you eating while they go without. Or if others can see food flying out of your mouth while you’re talking? You should be ejected from the restaurant. That’s just plain disgusting. Did your mother not teach you to chew with your mouth closed? Have you not heard that no one likes “See Food”? Grow some manners already.

On the Road:

Driving right on my bumper does not make me want to get out of your way. And driving up my tailpipe will not encourage me to go faster. In fact, it encourages me to see how close you can get to my bumper before I slam on the brakes as hard as I can. How about if you assume that I have a good reason for going the speed limit, take a deep breath, slow down, deal with it, and pass me when you get a chance? That way we can both save the insurance headache you’ll have for rear-ending me after I saw that cute little squirrel run across the road in front of me. Capisce?

Those little yellow lines in the parking lot? They’re there so that you can manuever your giant SUV, or even your little tiny Escort, in between them. They’re there so that everyone can have an equal shot at finding a parking space. Really, there are generally plenty to go around… unless you park your car sideways or manage to get one of the little yellow lines centered directly underneath your car. If you can’t park it, don’t drive it. If you park it like an idiot, expect your shiny paint job to be in jeopardy. I might just give you a dirty look, but there are plenty of folks out there far less courteous than I when parking spaces are at a premium.

And if I’m sitting in the parking lot, with my turn signal on, waiting for the person now occupying that parking space to pull out? It’s seriously rude to pull into that space just because you happen to be on the same side of the row as the person leaving.

Even if your windows are tinted, others around you at the stoplight can see you. Feel free to spend your time singing, laughing, or talking. Please don’t pick your nose. We can see you. Really. And that’s disgusting. How old are you anyway? Did your mother not teach you that anything smaller than your elbow does not belong in your nose or ear? Seriously. No one wants to be grossed out at the stoplight. Get a tissue already.

At the Office:

If you live in cubeland, feel free to actually get out of your chair, walk over, and have a quiet conversation with the person on the other side of the cube. If you shout at the top of your lungs so that you can be heard by that person? THE REST OF US CAN HEAR YOU. And we actually have work to do… that is being interrupted by you and your loud conversation.

And if I am on the phone? Which you should know because I sit in the cube right next door, try to wait until I’m actually done with that conversation to use your canned air to clean off your keyboard. Because trying to talk over that makes me feel like throwing my stapler at you.

When you send e-mail? And you copy everyone on God’s green earth, it really looks like you’re tattling. My kids go to time out for trying to get others in trouble purposely–surely you don’t want that. You might actually try getting out of your chair, walking the 20 feet to my cube, and having an actual conversation with me about whatever it is you want done. In reality, I probably wanted to help you before you sent that e-mail. I would have even wanted to help you if you had just sent the e-mail to me. It’s just possible that I’m on my 50th phone call, and 75th emergency today. Getting my manager to come over and give me a hard time will not ingratiate you for future requests. If my next list is 100 things long, rest assured that you’re 101st.

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