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Cubical wars - tales from the frontlines of the office.

Monday, day one I arrive in the cubical jungle refreshed and revived from my weekend R&R. Having been a veteran of many skirmishes I know the safest thing to do is get to my desk, hunker down and pray to avoid the pitfalls. You can never be too careful at the office.

I feel the glaring heat of 2 little eyes burning a hole in my back. I turn quickly and try to block my computer screen, too late the first shrapnel of the day. "Oh wow, The Onion huh? Nice use of the company time. Haha." He was going for a conspiratorial whisper but talks so loud half of the office hears him.

Before I rally my defenses I hear a loud ring. Ahhh, saved by the bell as Mr. Loudmouth rushes off to get his phone. His phone that is across the office, his phone that is turned up so loud you can hear it in the bathroom. Oh good, he has once again put his call on speaker without bothering to turn down the volume. I wonder if he thinks those 3 little fabric covered walls are sound proof?

He finishes his call but not before he announces the surprise twist ending of a movie I was planning on see this weekend. Groans abound through out the office. Darn another direct hit, I have got to get my head in the game and dodge those surprise bombings or I'll never survive. He goes to make an outgoing call and there it is, the loud dial tone on speaker, of course. Why would you want to know what number you are calling before hitting the dial button? I try to ignore the "dooooooooooooooooooooo" of the dial tone and brace myself for the loud "eheheheheheheheheheheheh" when he takes too long to dial. Maybe I can take an early lunch I think in defeat. I have lost this battle but the war rages on.

Tuesday, day two I arrive at the office bright and early, but didn't make it to the safety of my cube before today's volley starts. There she is sniffling at her desk, her mascara pooling under her eyes like a linebacker ready to make the play, the Trauma Queen. I try to sneak by praying my business attire camouflage will cover me, no luck I am spotted. "I am just having the worst day of my life!" She sobs and interprets my furtive looks for escape as a sign of interest and continues on. "Dave was out all night with the guys and came home smelling of smoke and perfume." I chuckle to myself in my head, come on, like I would fall for that trap so easily. There is no safe comment. If I bash Dave she defends him, if I try to come up with another reason he came in

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