As a young, influential, middle-schooler, I first watched Office Space at the recommendation of one of my sisters.
But what I remember the most about that first viewing is a single thought. A thought that creeped up into every subsequent time I sat down to watch Office Space:
“I never want to work at a job where I sit in a cubicle all day.”
I mean, it’s not that you are a bad being. You create work space for the masses. You create order. You create, wait for it, office space (boom, went there).
But a part of me always knew that working in a place that employed your use meant that a part of my soul was dead. My middle school logic told me that you + me = a picture of my cat in a frame and a solitary life of ramen. If I worked in a place where I had to sit at your faux-wood finish then I’d have lost a major part of my (non-cat framing) self. If anything, I think it’s safe to say that I was afraid of you.
Now I work at a place that also employs your use.
And it’s not as scary as I thought it would be.
Sure, I sometimes sit with you and take a look around at all the other carbon copies of you with non-carbon copies of myself sitting busily and have a minor panic attack because how did I end up here?
But then I look again and see that you are not necessarily a symbol of conformity but a blank canvas for the creative to shine. Pictures of people (not cats), potted plants, weird knickknacks: they are what show the person sitting at you. So, all I have to fear while sitting at you is not becoming a weird cat-lady but, rather, going on to Facebook too many times during the workday.
I’m not going to become less of myself because I now sit with you.
Thanks for the work space,