Strangers In the Cube, Exchanging Glances

I spend approximately 40 to 50 hours a week in my cubicle. This time is filled with meetings, emails, conference calls, and massaging my bare feet. All these hours in the same confines with fellow cubers would logically tell someone that we know each other very well. Wrong.

There are numerous employees who work in close proximity to me that I know nothing about. We have been randomly assigned to the same arena of 8x8 cubicles but we might as well be in different galaxies. No icebreakers or how-do-you-do's. Just the hum of flourescent lights, ringing of the phones, and Steve's* uncontrollable flatulence. The only acknowledgement of each other's presence is a nod of the head.

This is partly my fault. Some psychologists might diagnose my anti-social attitude as a repression of anger. And to them I say, "I'll land severe blows to your crotch with my steel-toed boots you lousy..." Where was I? I blacked out. Oh yes, my anti-social attitude. Despite the proximity and duration of being in each other's presence, I don't know anything about my cellmates. And the sad fact is that my time at the office almost exceeds my life at home.

My introverted approach and belief is that we openly curse the idle chit-chat at the watercooler but clandestinely know it's a more attractive alternative than having someone spill their guts. We have the option of not letting anyone know our secrets. Plus our reticent behavior allows us to stay out of the office gossip. Jessica is having an affair, glad I don't know. Harold's** a crossdresser, ignorance is bliss. The hot new secretary thinks I'm cute! Crap, so it works most of the time.

Steve's letting them rip this morning.

So if we don't interact with individuals, then we can only observe. Is it fair to size people up by their behavior? That's so narrow-minded. And the answer is "yes", of course we can. I have drawn many conclusions about employees juxtaposed in the same tight area of office space as me. Selective observation is a powerful tool. A few noteworthy items:

Krissy enjoys talking about her husband as if he were the second coming of Christ.
Translation: she is trying to convince herself that she didn't marry a loser.

Jay speed dials numerous women every Friday at 4 to unsuccessfully make weekend plans.
Translation: he is trying to convince himself that he is not a loser.

Travis accuses me of stealing his lunch.
Translation: I did steal his lunch but he doesn't have to get all accusatory about it.

We are so tightly crammed together and yet worlds apart. I believe Jars of Clay sang something about that. Or maybe it was Korn. Either way, the only words that are exchanged are hello's in the morning and goodbye's in the evening. Sometimes Sarah will say to me with her timid voice, "let go of my arm, you're hurting me". She's so funny.

The reality is that I'm afraid to open up. Afraid that people won't like or accept me. Afraid that in the end I'll just get hurt. And the loss is mine, I'm probably missing out on some great friendships. But once I start telling people that I was sent from the future to help the rise of the machines, they're never going to look at me the same way again. Especially Sarah.

* All names are fictitious to protect the guilty.
** Except for Harold, that dude is a cross-dressing fool.