Fun In The Cubicle

A few years ago, I wrote something about FM3’s Buddha Machine, a Walkman-like device that plays 9 short loops through a very primitive speaker. It’s nifty, but that Walkman, I put it away when we moved to the new house over a year and a half ago and I completely forgot about it.
Until I was down in the storage room in the basement, the one that also contains my dismantled drum kit, microphones, cables, and other instrumental accessories now haphazardly arranged in boxes and bags. The remnants of a live replaced by one of children, responsibilities, and other mundane routines.
I digress.
I went down there for something unrelated, but noticed the little Chinese box that housed the device. I opened it and tried turning it on, only to find that the batteries had died and, good thing I checked because the cheap Chinese batteries that came with the device looked suspiciously like they were about to start leaking acid.
The machine, the Buddha machine, would have been ruined and my karma would have been negatively impacted.
Understand, the thing only plays an established set of loops and none of them are more than 40 seconds of length. So it wasn’t like I was dying to hear “Loop 3” or “Loop 6,” but I wanted the curio to work again so I replaced the batteries with some more reliable alkaline ones.
Admittedly, it should be used for something more spiritual, I suppose. But my idea fits my lifestyle better. I brought the device to work the next day and placed it in between the cubicle walls of my and my boss’ cube. When she irritates me (which is seldom now, by the way, as we seem to be communicating well) I turn the thing on and await the inevitable “Does anybody hear that? It sounds like an organ.” She’ll then begin looking around her desk for the appropriate source, momentarily considering my suggestion that it must be her wireless headset.
She walked around a bit, asking people if they could hear it and carefully measured the volume as she got farther away from the source. She never considered to look inside the wall or, more appropriately, consider that my shenanigans were the source of the mysterious tones.
It’s quite hilarious, and even more so when she called the maintenance department so that they could investigate. I, of course, turned the unit off by then, which put her in the dubious position of having to both explain the sound to them and offer that she wasn’t crazy.
They left and actually turned up the white noise generators a bit, causing many people to stand up, look at the ceiling and ask to anyone in earshot: “Did they just turn on the air conditioning?” The hiss was reduced after maintenance notices how discomforting their solution was.
“That’s what it was,” my supervisor offered, “because I don’t hear those noises anymore.”
An hour later, I turned the device on again.
50,000 of these units have been sold, creating a veritable cult. I’m sure many of those buyers use the devise for the correct intention, but for me, I’m very pleased with my new found application.