Is it cool if I do this in two pictures? Cus it would be a shame if I described this whole thing in excruciating detail and then DIDN'T show it, and my face was getting in the way. :p

(I swear, I’m on lunch break right now! Don’t judge!)

The room I’m in has oppressively fluorescent lights hung from stucco ceilings with visible scaffolding, and a dark grey carpet that looks stained even after it’s cleaned. The air conditioning is located directly above my cubicle, and the constant hissing noise creates the illusion that it’s colder than it actually is. (For that reason, I keep a blanket and an extra hoodie at my desk at all times.) From this description it might sound like my office is depressing to work in; like this is some kind of American middle class 9 to 5 nightmare—but it’s not. This is a media company, so everyone covers their cubicles in toys—the nerdier, the better. It’s actually pretty cheery. I’m located right in front of the kitchen, so people pass by my desk all day. Since I’ve been here a while, most people know me and at least give me a friendly “hello.” There’s a refrigerator full of an abundance of soda directly in front of me, which gets a fair amount of traffic.

The walls of my cubicle are only about waist high, so it doesn’t lend well to privacy, but it does lend well to socializing. I have a bright yellow rectangular box hovering above one wall. I’ve filled it with the following: a Rubik’s cube, half solved; a miniature figurine someone gave me in Poland a decade ago; a now-outdated cardboard VR box that came with the New York Times years ago and I decided to keep because I thought it looked cool; a Gameboy Advance with Super Mario, Pacman, and Tony Hawk; a sticker someone gave me at Burning Man; a line drawing of a cuneiform tablet (to remind me of my grad school past); a USB storage device from The Met entitled “FLASH FROM THE PAST” which is in the shape of a sarcophagus; a patch that says “Keep What Matters on a mason jar; a power bank that looks like a unicorn, a super weird black and white photograph/picture with a slightly sepia hue of sheep grazing in what looks like Scotland (a friend brought it back from vacation—I can’t remember where, but I don’t think it was Scotland); a modest collection of Magic The Gathering cards (the rest are in a box under my desk, just in case someone wants to play); dice for Magic The Gathering (my D&D dice are at home); and a few D&D adventure books I found by the garbage can in my old building in New York several years ago. On my desk, I keep a basket of snacks I will never eat; on the walls, a couple of printed out texts that are both inside jokes; two photos from our 2016 work holiday party; a reminder of my dial-in PIN (1271—don’t worry, it’s not a secret); a note that from the recruiter who first found me.

Cubicle life is not nearly as bad as I thought it would be when I was a kid. When I thought of cubicles, I thought of Office Space (the movie), and revenue reports, and men in suits and ties, dressed up for no particular reason (other than to look professional?). Nobody looks at all professional here by those standards. There are a few other people here with brightly colored hair, and I think the bright blue hair counts as an asset in increasing the hipness factor anyway (I think). I’m not very good at wearing fancy clothes, so I don’t. Today, I’m wearing a dress which does a poor job of concealing my chest tattoo—not that it matters anyway—some black tights that my cat has torn up, some flats that are a little too well worn, and my signature item—winged black eyeliner. The people who work in adjacent cubicles are all friends, some of whom I see regularly outside of work. I’ve come to enjoy the company of my coworkers, which makes all the difference. My coworker just gave me some homemade banana bread, which is DELICIOUS. We have unlimited paid time off, which I take advantage of, though not nearly as much as I should. I can work from home on occasion and nobody really worries about it, but I show up so I can make an appearance and because I have a tendency to take naps in the middle of the day when my bed is readily available to me, which isn’t fantastic for my productivity. The free snacks are pretty cool, plus there are always spreads of food scattered throughout the office left over from shoots that I can usually raid. To be fair, I did prepare a revenue report the other day, which I will be presenting to my boss later this week, so that part of my nightmare was accurate, though it doesn’t seem so nightmarish now that it’s a reality. I guess this is what it is to grow up?