Cube Farm

“You’ve. Got. This.”

              “Who is she saying that to?” I lean in close and whisper to the short, hipster with an impressive handle-bar mustache showing me around my new work place.

              “You. Me. Everyone out there,” he says gesturing to the sea of cubicles in front of us. “It’s inspiring, right?” His eyes glaze over in reverence towards my new manager. “You are so lucky to work under Ms. Jackie. She truly cares about all her people. You will never want to leave.” The haze of reverence quickly vanishes only to be replaced by a sudden catty comment. “Well, besides Crazy Kayleen. Now Kayleen may make you want to leave our cozy little island.” He begins to pick up his pace as he points out the kitchen and rest area, as though the topic of Crazy Kayleen was off-limits.

               “Ummm, Kayleen you were saying? What is up with her?” I am suddenly heaving trying to catch my breath, as we traverse the vast maze of my new department. I am reminded of my Nana’s short stint in Mall Walkers, a group of older women in our small town who took to fast walking at the mall for safety reasons. Her proclamation after her first, and only, walk, resonated with me in this moment, “This shit is for the birds.”

              “You will want no drama from Crazy Kayleen. Just stay away from her,” he threw over his shoulder as a warning; unfortunately, I like a good mystery and have a soft spot for the “less fortunate”. I am sure I could dig up a more clinical diagnosis for feeling that way, but I had to catch up to my mustachio-ed friend who was doing a full face wave to push his glasses up without using his hands. First, his upper lip muscle waved his mustache, then, his nose scrunched to push his thick, black rimmed glasses up his face. The pure embodiment of, “Tell me you are a hipster, without telling me you are a hipster”.

I was shown to my cage… or cell, both being accurate in Corporate America. I personally prefer the era of Work From Home, but beggars can’t be choosers. A cage is a suitable name for side by side cubicles, with a 4 ft. wall sheathed in a loose fabric that were invented to delineate one’s own office area. However, it is only a visual border as the sounds… and smells still permeate the open space; small price to pay, to work under the tutelage of such a great woman as Ms. Jackie. I set up my area by hanging my bulky winter coat on the back of my chair and voila, “Home Sweet Home”. I quickly got to reading the company site, as my new hipster friend had suggested strongly that I do.

About an hour in, as I am diligently reading and taking copious notes that I will not be able to actually read later in the day, I hear a voice calling to me through the 4ft. tall, thin fabric wall. Not sure who it is exactly as I am not one for remembering names and faces.

“Hey, there. Hey! Hi!” A nasal, whining voice breaks my reverie. I roll my eyes praying that someone is not talking to me as I have work to do and I do not want to become enmeshed in any company drama on day one. Day 20, maybe; depends on how great the tea is around here. A foot swiftly appears in my tiny workspace and is followed in seconds by a body and face with a voice like air escaping a balloon, thin, high-pitched and reedy.

              “Oh, um, hey, how are you? I’m trying to process a bit of information before I get thrown into anything quickly.” I state staring at my screen hoping she will get the drift to buzz off. I am not one of those people with a cheery disposition that likes to buddy up quickly with others, in other words, personable. Give me my murder podcasts, a rainy day and space.

              “Pity. I could really use a new friend around here. Been a lot on my plate lately and need a good “jam sesh”, if you know what I mean.” Her eyes blur with tears but her mouth timidly smiles as she tries to negate the pools forming in her eyes.

              Damn it, I am such a sucker for the under-dog. I roll my seat around with a sigh and suggest, “Why don’t we go get some coffee in a bit? I really need to finish up reading this before I speak to Ms. Jackie later this afternoon. I want to have all my I’s dotted and my T’s crossed.”  My Mama always told me you never know what another person is going through, so be kind. I wanted to listen to Mama but I also wanted to keep my kick-ass, highly unattainable position that took me 4 months and 6 interviews to score and most importantly, my emo-personae.

              She agreed, turned around and sauntered back to where she was stationed in the cube farm. I gave a quick glance up and noticed she was directly across from me with merely a 4 ft. sheet divider and wondered if this might be an issue.

              Suddenly, before I could give that any more thought, the ironically dated, black landline on my desk rang and since I am not a Gen-Z’er, I knew what it was thankfully and answered it.

              “Sure,” I said into the mouth piece, “I’ll be right there!”

              I grab my new, lined notebook that I am sure nerds and teacher’s pets salivate over, and walk as swiftly as I can in my all black attire complete with new, un-scuffed black boots. I stop short of Ms. Jackie’s steel grey door with massive sleek handles that look as if they were repurposed pipes. I smooth down my recently but perfectly dyed, bottle auburn hair, cut and rounded at my jawline, framing my pale heart-shaped face. I check both hoop earrings to ensure they are facing the right direction. There is nothing more awkward than to wear simplistic jewelry only to arrive at a destination with it all skewed. I pause to take a deep breath.

              “Please come in. I do not have all day,” said the breezy voice on the other side. I smile thinking she was waiting for me, but as my gaze is pulled upwards, I see a red blinking light above her door. She has been watching me fix my hoops and hair. Cringe.

              I open the door, which is much heavier than it looks and place my left foot back to gain more traction with the door. As I push through, I hear a distinctive “SSHHHWWWWEEEE” which means that if I was to turn around right this second, I know there is a big black mark on the sterling white marble floor made by my previously un-scuffed boots. I keep my head straight and plaster on a chipper smile that is showing every single one of my pearly whites, and pray my deodorant has kicked into high-gear.

              “Hello Ms. Jackie, it is such an honor to meet you,” I say walking stiffly across the floor lifting my boots, heel/toe, heel/toe, heel/toe – there will be no unsightly marks made in this office by me….well…anymore.

              “So, you are the new girl?” begins Ms. Jackie which makes me wince. My boobs came in when I was 12 years old and my period soon followed. There is nothing “girl” about me. Perhaps, this is the way that she breaks down barriers. Ok, she can have this one, because I know in my heart soon we will be friends and look back on this moment and laugh while sharing a bottle of Shiraz. “Please have a seat.” She gestures to a very uncomfortable wooden, high-back chair in front of her desk which is flanked on either side by two luscious seats ensconced in buttery cream leather.

              I take what I am offered and begin to wiggle around trying to locate the soft spot that the masses before me have surely driven into this item of mass torture. Unfortunately, I cannot locate it and if I keep wiggling, it will seem as though I have worms. I sit still and instantly my right leg starts to tingle and then my left foot falls asleep due to the hard lip of the seat digging into my popliteal artery.

              “Carrie, I have been told that your CV was well worth the hire itself. I just hope that you are as good in real life as you are on paper.” She rakes her glasses down her thin, patrician nose as her eyes snap up drilling holes into my soul. Her mouth is a line. She means business.

              I begin to stammer, but her staccato laugh breaks the ice and my heartbeat returns to normal.

              “Now, tell me all about you. All that I cannot see on this CV. I want to hear about your parents, your upbringing and ultimately, what led you to this job!” Her face changes and there is a smile ear to ear. I feel warm fuzzies and while I typically “play for the other team”, I am feeling a girl crush moment as her boss-bitch personae infuses the room.

              It is foreign for me to be loquacious, but when in Rome. I jump right in, telling her about my parents losing their jobs and our relocation, how hard high school was, and then college where I blossomed. I even admitted to hounding this office for an interview because her reputation preceded her. At one point, she offers me the Kleenex, and I cannot even remember what was being discussed as she was so easy to divulge these personal life events to with her caring tone and endless questions. It seems as though she is genuinely interested in me as a human.

              After 1 hour and 20 minutes she gently tells me she needs to make a call in 5 minutes and that she has so enjoyed our talk. Literally, “ENJOYED” our talk. I am over the moon walking out of her office. Embarrassment hits as I see the boot skid mark I made while opening the door. I attempt a dainty shuffle as I try to erase it with my boot. Aware at all times that she may be watching me through the camera above the door.

After the day ends, I am smiling as I walk to my car, Kayleen suddenly materializes. The thought pierces my mind that I may have a stalker, albeit friendly. Hopefully.

              “So, how was your first day? Did Ms. Jackie tell you that “You’ve got this” about a 100 million times? She is wonderful, right?! She is always so gracious to me.” Kayleen is smiling and actually looks quite pretty now that the distress from earlier today has disappeared. Whatever had her spiraling this afternoon has been released and she is in good spirits.

               “Yes, she did and it is so inspirational! I have an even greater sense of why I am here and it feels amazing! Perhaps we can do a Happy Hour at the end of the week? Does that sound good to you, Kayleen?” I am in a good mood and tentatively ready to make friends.

              “Sure! I’d really like that Carrie. I am so glad you have joined our team. See you later!” Kayleen says. I can hear her softly humming as she walks to her car.

The rest of the week is perfect with easy tasks, a few chats with my new tentative friends and then a team meeting led by our fearless leader Ms. Jackie with “You’ve Got This!” statements peppered every few seconds. I noticed she even said it a few times under her breath but I imagine she has to tell herself that too from time to time; the whole positive affirmation thing and all.

At the end of the week, Kayleen and I meet at a popular patio bar and people watch as we order our 1^st and 2^nd rounds while chatting about life. It has been said she is crazy but so far, except for the initial day, I have seen no crazy. Maybe she is just a woman that needs a friend. Kayleen’s life story is filled with adversity that seems to come daily, but overall she has a positive outlook. Her husband was laid off due to a disability two years ago and she is the sole caregiver along with taking care of her two gorgeous daughters. She promptly whips out some pictures, as most parents do.

I am never sure if this is because they are so proud or as proof and I wonder, are there people out there that are dubious of another saying they have children? Therefore, all parents feel they must have a pic handy for such occasions? But either way, the pride emanated from Kayleen.

I do not hear anything that supports the crazy narrative and she briefly explains her emotions on Monday, when she popped into my cube. Her husband’s oxygen was sent late and he was having breathing issues while she was trying to get her 3 and 5 year old wrangled and calmed. She said she was obviously frazzled and tried to hold it all in. However, when she got to work late and apologized to Ms. Jackie, the eminent leader told her an important life lesson “If you feel like crying at your desk just do so. People are respectful and most of all, you’ve got this!” She felt empowered.

As time went on, I found out that Kayleen really busts her ass to accurately and confidently complete her work. Her reports are generally sent my way and I have not found one inaccuracy. Her work is neat, concise and on time, but generally it is early. From time to time, I still see her sitting at her desk sniffling and dabbing at her eyes. A simple coffee break with her new best friend, me, and soon we are both laughing. Who is perpetuating this “crazy” portrayal of Kayleen, I wonder? It still irks me as I get to know and like Kayleen. Unfortunately, it is still thrown around on the daily and I know Kayleen has heard it herself a few times.

One random Thursday, Jeff, the IT guy, came to install new software and was speaking candidly to Kevin, the IPA loving, beatnik, “You remember John who got fired for all those mistakes? Dude, I just finished going through them. He had only maybe 4 inaccuracies. I can’t believe you can be fired for that?”

              “Well, he was having some issues with his parents. He and his family were trying to decide to have them move in with him and his wife or to an assisted living space. Maybe he quit so he could help out,” said Kevin matter-of-factly as he absently twisted the end of his mustache.

              “No” Jeff said, “He was fired for ERRORS. Says so in his HR file.”

              “And how do you know that,” Kevin fired back, “Still banging Tina in HR are you? Aww hell, don’t let Ms. Jackie find out or you will be next to go!”

              “I think it IS Ms. Jackie. She gets us in that room and acts all motherly to us and we spill info in casual conversation. Each person who does it is let go!”

              “JEFF. Stop talking like that. Ms. Jackie has been awesome. Just be quiet.” Whispered Kevin before swinging around in his chair dismissing Jeff’s statement while surreptitiously peeking over his shoulder to see who might be listening.

I decided to pay a visit to the office chatterbox, Tina of HR, who according to Jeff had all the tea and also tail, but that is another story. I had found that over the course of 2 years, 7 people had been fired for negligible reasons and all signed off by the one and only MS. Jackie. The next file, I casually saw on Tina’s desk, was one that had Ms. Jackie’s sign off to fire Kayleen for “emotional outbursts” during working hours!

Ms. Jackie, the one that encouraged Kayleen to cry and let it out. Kayleen had a near perfect attendance, impeccable work ethic and the best ginger snaps at the company potluck! Besides, her minor crying spells could hardly be called “emotional outbursts”; was that even legal?

I began to wonder if Ms. Jackie’s declaration of “You’ve Got This” and chats were a way for her to weasel into every person’s history so that she could have valuable, personal information at her disposal; which makes for a killer episode of The Real Housewives, but not so favorable from a boss. “You’ve Got This” started to sound like a predator sizing up its prey. Every time she said the phrase, I saw it differently now, like one of those reversible, ambiguous pictures; was it an old lady or a lady in a hat? Perhaps, it was a sick and twisted game, one which only Ms. Jackie knew the rules and only she would win.

              “Carrie, can you please come up here. Please don’t leave a scuff mark on the floor this time.” Ms. Jackie said into the company intercom. This had recently become an inside joke, with everyone, since Ms. Jackie brought it up in a team meeting about my first day snafu. I had taken it in jest, thinking of it as good ol’ hazing, but of late it seemed to have more sinister overtones. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, but curiosity gets the better of me as I stand wondering what snake-like personal questions will be asked of me today.

Mama did say to be kind, but she always followed it up with, but don’t be an idiot.