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A book’s title can best describe the motions I repeat on a Monday thru Friday basis in my little cubicle. I stumbled across this hardback a few months ago and was completely absorbed for several days until I had thoroughly devoured it only wishing for more, even just a tiny little morsel to lick off the plate. I felt as if “Apathy and Other Small Victories” was written just for me, words I could identify with … was the author that little fat man with the sharp little finger that lived in my head?

It has been almost a year since this Corporate Slave posted for the very first time. You might remember that blog, if not – well, go read it, what I’m about to write will make much more sense to you.

Last night I was victorious. My headphones have no longer been banished. What two office pilgrims thought would burn me at the stake, essentially set me free. 

Yesterday I had one headphone in my ear listening to an episode of “Dead Like Me” as I diligently entered a stack of data. I was proud of myself; I’d been more productive in one day than I had been in a week. The track was enough background noise to distract me from the horrible chip crunching and gum smacking that was about to send someone flying out a window. I happily mindlessly entered data for hours. The Man wasn’t around, I figured, “Why not?” as long as I was getting work done. Well, The Man has minions who seek power and control, and in order to earn that they must pick on the dweller in the pack that stands out – no matter how much I try to remain invisible.

Long story short, my boss was called into the office to meet with The Man and his flying monkeys. He called me at home so his email wouldn’t be a shock in the morning. From what he told me it was implied that I was extensively watching a video and not doing an ounce of work. I cried foul, stated that I could show him the amount of work I’d done all day, and he said that he didn’t doubt me. We both agreed that finger pointing is childish and that people should worry more about what they are doing themselves. Then he told me I could listen to my music whenever I needed to, not to worry about it anymore, and that he would take care of it. Hats off to Slowpoke, he has my respect.

Good morning!

*Ducking as random objects fly by my head*

I snoozed my alarm for 15 minutes this morning before forcing myself out of bed to quickly take a shower, pop my happy pills, and then race to work.  As I pulled into the parking garage I felt the familiar feeling in my brain of the little fat man lounging in his easy chair poking my frontal lobe with his sharp little finger.  YES!  A migraine threatening to force me into a dark room in a fetal position!  

You are probably thinking, “Cubicle Dweller has finally snapped” … oh, I snapped along time ago … or maybe you’re thinking, “CD is a masochist!” … well, you have to be one to work where I work, but no, that’s not why a huge smile crept across my glowing face.

I got a new drug.  One that won’t make me sick, one that won’t make me crash my car, or feel three feet thick.  Migraines are my only excuse to pop this new award winning cocktail that my wonderful mother created, poured into a zip lock baggy and shoved into my purse a few weeks ago when I was moaning that I had a migraine but couldn’t take my regular medication because it knocked me out.

She promised me that if I took these two pills and drank a cup of coffee I’d feel “gooood”.  Hey ya, she is a miracle worker!  Just one flexeril, one fiorinal, and a cup of office sludge help me fly through the day in my own little world.  As the meds kick in my brain just goes on cruise control, I will happily enter info into data bases for hours.  Now just to figure out what to do on days I don’t have a migraine … I was thinking I should begin spiking my coffee with Irish Cream.