Life in a cubicle. Part three.
The one major illusion of a cubicle is that it affords the occupant privacy. Some of the walls are metal, some walls have a faux burlap wrapping that makes it easier to tack up such personal notions as photos, lists, calendars and whatever else makes the occupant feel at home. But you can still hear the person in the next box. If you are average height, you can see over the walls into the next work space. And, even though the cubicles have a semi-door entry way, nothing closes or moves to afford any sense of being in your own office. There is no such thing as privacy in a cubicle.
But they want you to think there is. Most companies will orchestrate some type of white noise in the office to drown out the voices next door. Some managers will stand outside of a cubicle listening to their employees conversations. But we know better.
The last cubicle farm I worked in was predominantly filled with females. As all good cubicle farms are, this one was centered in the office. Offices that had windows, walls and doors surrounded the cubicles and were all occupied by men. Not one woman sat in an office. These coveted offices were reserved for the guys who sold the most. Even though some of them spent their days golfing with clients or watching the stock market on their PC's, the offices were reserved for them. They could close their doors to have private conversations, catch up on their Fantasy Football or check out some online T&A before office hours.
I was particularly annoyed with the lack of personal privacy in my cubicle. I made it home while it needed to be but I absolutely hated when people would come into it while I was on the phone. Whether I was talking with clients or the call was personal, it was bad form to come in and listen to my conversations. One salesman would come in, sit down on my desk and wait for my call to end. Not more than a foot away from my torso, he would listen to everything I would say. Not too surprising for him as this was the same guy who would spend his mornings at the fax machine reading all the faxes and then would deliver them to our desks. It was common practice for me to cover the phone and remind him that I was on the phone; that I would be more than happy to come see him when I was done. I would turn my back and ignore him. Nothing worked.
Nothing worked until I got my rear view mirror. I positioned it on the base of my computer screen. I could see whoever came into my cubicle and then at that time decided if the conversation needed to be ended or could continue. It wasn't long before more women in the office started seeking out rear view mirrors.
Worse than the desk sitter was the cubicle stomper. He would come into my cubicle, see that I was on the phone and then stomp his feet until he got my attention. Stomp. His. Feet. He would stomp them like a three year old child that had been told he couldn't have any cookies before dinner.
The note passer. This is the guy that feels his issues take prevalence over any issue that his female colleague has. This particular male colleague would come into my cubicle and throw notes in front of my face. Notes that read "Urgent. Get off the phone." Fearing the worst, I would get off the phone and immediately inquire about his emergency. His client needed a question answered. His client was calling too much. I told him that unless one of my children was injured and the school was trying to reach me, no one interrupted my calls.
Sometimes I look back at those intrusions into my work world and laugh. But most times I look back on them and realize how the corporate structure promotes the intrusion yet does nothing about the subsequent bad behaviour.
Sigh.
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