An Ode to Peace and Quiet and Minding One's Own Business

An Ode to Peace and Quiet and Minding One's Own Business
by Lisa Woerly

The disembodied voice on the other side of fabric-covered particleboard asked me, "Did you guys go out to dinner? Where to?"

"Excuse me?" I find myself growling this rhetorical question at least half a dozen times a day.

"Why won't you go out with that guy again? He sounded nice to me." The voice across the cubicle wall obviously thought that I wanted a response to my question.

"Do you have anything better to do than to listen in on my conversations? I'm not a contestant on 'The Dating Game'. You do not get to ask me questions." After saying this, I realize that I have upset the disembodied voice by being so blunt. Only the sounds of fingertips hitting her keyboard can be heard.

Finding peace and quiet in a cubicle is like stumbling across a thirty-year-old virgin. You know it exists, but you'll be damned if you know how to find it.

The negatives far outweigh the positives, so I'll quickly outline all positives to working in a cubicle: (1) I have the "penthouse" of cubicles because mine measures 10" x 10" and everyone else's measures 9" x 9" and (2) the fluorescent lights overhead are great for my plants. That's it. Two positives.

The negatives include jealous coworkers who demand reasons why I have a larger cubicle, always keeping one eye over my shoulder as I work on personal things (did I really just admit to doing that?), and obnoxious cubicle mates who feel it is their duty to tell me how to live my life.

There's Tony, the marketing guy, who tried telling me that I should build a brand new house instead of buying an existing home. We no longer speak to one another because I had to tell him to mind his own business after he actually had one of his home-builder buddies call me unsolicited.

Deb likes to pop into my cubicle throughout the day and tell me the latest troubles with her boss. I think I'm the only person in the company who knows that Deb and her (female) boss did the deed after a drunken work party one night, and now Deb can't quite figure out why her boss shies away and avoids eye contact.

Our department secretary Tiffany keeps asking for my advice on her upcoming wedding--chicken or beef? Lilac or tangerine bridesmaid dresses? Afternoon or evening service? And yet Tiffany knows I have no intentions of ever having a wedding of my own. That's like asking the Pope which brand of condom he prefers.

A moment of peace and quiet is hard to come by around here. The bathroom doesn't work because there are three other stalls of women to worry about. The breakroom doesn't work because someone is always popping in for a snack or to peruse the job board. I used to hide out in the warehouse and pretend to check inventories for my clients, but the appeal of a dark and hot warehouse doesn't last long before you find yourself fleeing its confines.

Too much information! Doesn't anyone have any shame these days? Knowing full well that everyone around me can hear my conversations, I try to keep my voice down. I can hear others' conversations around me, but I do not interrupt them to add my commentary.

Living in a cubicle eight hours a day gives a person a false sense of security. After all, you have four walls surrounding you. The only problem is that those walls are only five feet high. That leaves five more feet of open air. It's a breeding ground for eavesdropping and it's a forced sense of community.

I instigate practical jokes, I laugh with my coworkers, and I congratulate them when I hear one of them deal with a particularly nasty client with class and professionalism. Work should be a stimulating and enjoyable environment. We all have to conduct personal business in our cubicles at some point during the day or week, but we should all have enough common sense to know that some things are private and do not deserve repeating. We should also have enough common sense not to join in on conversations uninvited.

My beloved Alice (of the "I'm so lonely I must stalk men" fame) pipes up, "So you and Jack are going out for drinks after work? That sounds great! I'll see you there."

"Jack and I have business to discuss", I respond with a touch of venom in my voice. Alice says that's not a problem, she'll just ask Tom to join us. Make it a foursome.

This whole thing was my fault. I should have kept my mouth shut and emailed Jack instead. Emails aren't audible (yet).