This article is part five of a seven part series on unplugging from the cubicle. Read the full introduction here.
The Breaking Point
I had to search the records management sector of my brain. March 6th or 7th, right? Definitely 2009. Maneuvering towards my desk clumsily, my feet felt encased in concrete. I coughed in reaction to that stifling meeting room. Funny how meeting rooms can be mistaken for sealed off mausoleums. No air, always rife with dead bodies.
We were under siege, I had managed to walk away unscathed — this time.
Others weren’t so lucky. The scene of redundancy mimics the rituals of a funeral, too. Observers gather, appearing silent. Meanwhile, their emotions are bubbling. The whys? Hows? Who’s next?
No arrow through my chest, but a virus had entered my system.
“We’ve had to let a few people go. We are busy, but need people in certain areas, namely where you are right now. Soo.. moving upstairs to work with Shelly won’t be happening. At least for 6 months.”
A death knell looming over me. I thought back to 2 months earlier, when the prospect of “moving upstairs” reinvigorated my work ethic in this company. The carpet tiles were just pulled from under me. Promotion, gone.
My attitude and will to be present in the cube wilted, plummeting to earth as Icarus did, his wax wings softening under the sun.
When 6 months had passed, movement upstairs fell eerily quiet. A year was approaching, and I had no more corners to hide in any longer. My concentration suffered, in tune with any desire to wake up and haul my carcass into work. My patience was a teetering pile of brittle sticks.
I officially had it, what to do