Cubicles
“Don’t touch me!” Marcia hissed in reaction to the bump against her chair.
“Geez, you’d think I was trying to steal your stapler.” Geoff playfully offered his innocent look and rolled his chair slightly closer to his desk.
“Leave me alone.” She did not try to hide her annoyance.
“It was an accident.” He tried not to chuckle.
“That’s the second time this morning.” Marcia did not like being interrupted.
“You’ll have to ask the boss to place some more space between our desks.” Geoff tried a light-hearted logical appeal. “But, of course, everyone else’s desk would need to be repositioned. And that ain’t happening.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Marcia groaned. “You’re not supposed to be bumping into me every day. I need to focus on spreadsheets.”
“Look, I’m sorry if my existence is a disruption to your soul-crushing numbers, but I have to be somewhere. And this cubicle farm is our shared reality.” It appeared he found the right button to inspire her attention.
“Cubicle farm!?” Marcia turned to focus her sarcasm directly at Geoff. “This is a modern open-plan office. It’s supposed to foster ‘collaboration’ and ‘teamwork’.” She gestured vaguely around them. “No walls. Just the crushing weight of everyone else’s anxieties and the constant hum of fluorescent lights.”
After three weeks in his new position, he finally pierced the social veil of his nearest co-worker. Geoff smiled and peered over at her computer. “Wow, those numbers are – intense. You know, I’m actually pretty good with math. I can add, subtract – sometimes even multiply – if I’m feeling particularly ambitious.”
Marcia deadpanned, “Perhaps you could assist me in calculating the square root of my patience.”
Geoff could see she was loosening up. “I’m game. Maybe we could do it over lunch? Pizza? My treat?”
Marcia sighed, defeated by persistence and a dash of charm. “Fine. But if you try to talk anymore about math, I’m leaving.”
Geoff chuckled. “Deal. Just pizza and maybe a debate about what collaboration and teamwork means.”
Marcia mock-shuddered and finally smiled. “Oh, God. I hope lunchtime never comes.”
by George Alger
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