Yes, I worked in a cubicle for several years (20 to be exact).  How I hated that. Every morning my alarm clock would ring and I'd grunt a loud, "Ugh!".  I realized that I was an "octogon" in a square world. I just didn't fit in.  My co-workers were pleasant enough.  There were 3 groups of co-workers: the "Promot me annoyingly company person group", the "I'm only doing this until something better comes along group" and the "I hate my boss/job group".

I didn't fit in with any of those groups. My happy-go-lucky, "just chill out everything will get done when I get everything done" personality didn't fit in with the corporate scheme of things. Go figure. During my cubicle life, I wrote quite a bit of poetry. One piece was born out of my frustration and ire for the cubicle life. Wanna read it? Here it is:

• Inspiration:  In New Orleans we lived across from a natural levee which bordered the Mississippi River and the Industrial Canal. From atop the levee you could see the Downtown skyscrapers, housing corporate offices and various high rise hotels. One evening as the sun was setting on the Mississippi I looked over at those buildings and the setting sun glistening on them and thought, "How beautiful; too bad it doesn't look like this from the inside."

City Skyline

Looking out across the Mississippi I can see the Downtown skyline

The sun glistening on the glass and iron making the buildings shine

My spirit, though, cannot be warmed by the sun's glow as I peer that way

A cold glare is all I see because over there, darkness covers the light of day

Visions of white men, black women, latino wives and asian husbands

Clawing and scratching through corporate America's raging torrents

For the prize they all stretch and empty themselves of all their fiber

Trampling over bodies, just another obstacle, like a rock climber

Scrapping and growling, marking territory to stake their claim

On the prowl, ready to pounce all for the sake of making a name

The city skyline sitting on the Mississippi, quietly it howls

The roar of the corporate machine pounding up from it's bowels

Souls of the forgotten ones go about haunting the elevators and halls

Where they're boxed in cubes, hidden from the sun and fed in stalls

Corporations etch the skyline, making a few rich, the major, tho,  just exist

The lure of security traps them in cubes like a hamster in a cage, what a twist

Hamsters learning to be content with running but getting no place

Unless you're willing to play their game of "hide your true face"

The sun sets on the city skyline like a brush painting it orange and then grey

Sleep now little hamsters, you'll need your strength for another corporate day

(c) Tammy Walker-Thomas 2003

That's all for today. Take baby steps to the dream.

Peace be the journey,

Tammy

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