Here read the true tales of a young twenty-something cubicle dweller by day - dreamer of “there’s got to be more than this” by night - trying to find the moral of her everyday story. Walk with Jackie down cubicle lane every Wednesday as she humorously shares the pitfalls and high points of moving to a new city for her first job, building a life post 5 o’clock, and searching for meaning in every crevice of her stu-stu studio.

Dear Fellow Millennials,

“Burrrr,” said the Jackie

You can take the girl out of Florida, but you can’t take the “I get chills from ice cream” out of the girl. Immersed in the viscous territory of winter, I attracted attention at work as the girl who wore her coat all day. People would walk by my cubicle and do a double-take, offering a “Yeah, that’s a nice coat and all, but why are you still wearing it??” look.

I read their silent judgments – those warm blooded bullies – and countered their stares with, “Ok, I’m from Florida, and I’m having a hard time adjusting to the weather…alright?!”

I self-diagnosed myself with Seasonal Affective Disorder. Snow flurries can be agents for sadness. I also harbored cheetah envy since I could no longer run through the National Zoo in the mornings due to frigid temperatures.

Corporate America – On the Rocks

Not enough that I had to work on President’s Day (in the nation’s capital – talk about sacrilegious), but the heat hadn’t been turned on during the weekend, which produced the coldest temperatures DC had seen that winter.

On Monday morning, the office was an icebox. People were wearing their coats and scarves as they went about their work, and the security guard in the main lobby manned her desk in one of those fashionable hats with ear muffs attached. My sentiments to the rest of the company – welcome to my world. Who’s making fun of the Florida girl now?

People were complaining and I thought it a prime opportunity to realize one of my many goals: fighting in the name of a good cause/inciting a riot so we could go home. I’ve always wanted to be chained to something, chanting, “Heck no we won’t go!” on the premise of some moral principle (I’m 100 percent serious).

I was about to start rallying the troops, but then I heard that there was a sponsored breakfast and all were invited. I’m a sucker for a bran muffin, I’ll admit it.

A Loaded Gun

After an all-day client meeting, Magnum and I took the out-of-town visitors (thorns in my bum) for dinner. Magnum and a martini were a dangerous combination (and I thought I was a lightweight).

She became loquacious, loud and was calling me “Boo-Boo” by the end of the night. After dinner, we dropped the group off at the hotel, and Magnum suggested that she and I continue drinking. Hail to the chief I did.

Secrets were shared, many laughs had and by the end of the night we were crying to each other about not being able to find guys that could compare to our fathers. I tried to pick up the tab but Magnum said, “Honey, come on, we’re expensing this sh@! to the client.” So much to learn.

Pistol Smoke

Magnum finally did it; she shot someone. Dark-humored Dan was unexpectedly fired while I was picking up office supplies at Staples – story of my life.

When I got back to work – 3-ring binders and alphabetical dividers in tow – his computer monitor was blank except for a flashing cursor. I thought it was strange, but I was eager to assemble the new organizational object of my affection so I didn’t give it much thought. Toward the end of the day, Magnum called me into her office and broke the news.

I took it pretty hard. Speechless sounds about right. I felt like the last remaining person held captive in a stand-off. How could he leave me alone with an armed boss? How could this happen when just the day before he asked me:

“Hey, want to go jump in front of a bus with me?”

“Public or charter?” I questioned.

“Which ever one is bigger,” he said.

He was my “boy” and the levity of my day, so I worried that my job would become completely dull and void of laughter. Naïve me didn’t realize that upon his departure, I’d be assuming all of Dark-humored Dan’s tasks in addition to my own. I soon became real tight with a phenomenon known as overtime – coming in early, working through lunch and growing bitter quickly.

Looking back, I learned more about the association industry, the competencies of my position and my work ethic (huge) in that intensely tumultuous time. I literally had to comb through Dark-humored Dan’s desk and return countless phone messages he ignored, rectify invoices he buried under file folders (un-alphabetized…) and try to make sense of rampant post-it notes.

Work Makes Me W(h)ine

You know you’ve had a bad day at work when you’re walking home, pass a wine store with a sign outside boasting a free tasting at 5:30 p.m. and you wish with every fiber of your being that it is still viable at the current time of 6:30 p.m.

I walked inside toward the tasting table where the server says she can offer me a Sauvignon Blanc, a Pinot Noir or a cocktail slushy. “And which would you like to try?” she asks.

“All of them.”

On the defensive,
Jackie

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