Fun In The Cubicle

Haven’t done one of these in a while, but I think I’ve hinted that the recent influx of economic turmoil has created an added workload in my life. Most of the calls can be answered succinctly, but there is one call that stands out as being douchebag worthy. The mo-fogie wanted to know what impact our stock price had on the blah blah wolf wolf. I went through the standard spiel that satisfies 95% of the callers, but this guy fell into the 5% range and, from their, secured himself in the 1% percentile by being a total condescending asshole. I transferred him to a supervisor after 15 minutes of bullshit and he provided him with an additional 15 minutes of bullshit. I hate calls like this, the ones where they think they’re smarter than the average bear, but in reality are just people with way too much time on their hands and way too little self-esteem. During the call, the gentlemen fielded another call and chastised the other party for calling him to confirm his tennis time. He also proceeded to have me wait as he looked for a college accounting book so that he may look for an economic principle to make his point.
When it gets to this point, I usually fall into standby mode. The silence is met with a “Hello?” or “Are you still there?” as I wait for the Einstein’s revel in the sound of their own voice.
The same day, I had another manager from a different department ask me if I could stop drumming on my notepad. Anyone who knows me-or more specifically, worked with me-knows that I have a habit on tapping on various items on my desk. In fact, my desk at work is structure like a drum set. My notepad is both the snare and bass drum; my finger taps would play the role of the bass while the pen serves as my snare sound. In case you’re wondering, my pen (or “drumstick”) of choice is a red Papermate ball point pen. I don’t use it for anything other than drumming as my writing utensil is one of those cheap Papermate automatic pencils. I have a post it holder serve as my floor tom and my cup of water or soda serves as my cowbell. This comes in handy whenever I lay into Motley Crue’s “Live Wire.” My little Hawaiian Breeze fan is used whenever I’m reproducing some Neil Peart solo.
I was doing the drum intro to Ozzy Osbourne’s “Over The Mountain” when the supervisor came over to my desk. She’s about three cubicles over from me and felt my overzealous drumming was too much of a distraction. Her distractions to me include leaving her cell phone on ring at her desk and then having a bunch of calls come to it when she’s away from her desk. To this point, she has also complained to a few of my colleagues for leaving their phones on ring, but she is apparently exempt from this rule. She also likes to put calls on speakerphone, which is nice for me when I’m trying to hear actual customers on my headset.
I told her that I would try to tone down my drumming, but that it is a nervous habit that can only be controlled with ample amounts of medication.
I also applied for an internal transfer to a completely different department. It’s one of those gigs that’s so awesome that I will be pouting for weeks on end if I don’t get an interview for it. I’d have an enormous amount of flexibility, independence, a pay raise and I’d get to investigate fraudulent shit and deal with private investigators. I hope I get considered because it doesn’t seem like my current position as Motley Crue’s drummer is working out too well.
At least I’m still hung like a horse.