Only a few days until Halloween, so I have one more horrifying story to close out the month. A comment on the Phantom Skimmer from my friend Ernie inspired me to share this disturbing story from our college days.

We grew up and attended college in the Midwest and due to the many rivers that run through the cities, heavy rains and high waters would sometimes drive sewer rats to the surface to instill a little fright in the local neighborhoods. The evening news would run stories about encounters such as a man being chased around his yard while trying to take out the trash. If you’ve never seen a sewer rat, these are no pet-type mice; these rats can be the size of a large cat. It’s pretty freakish.

In college I shared the ground floor of an old Victorian manor with two of my friends. The upstairs unit housed four guys we went to school with, so it was a party house to boot. It was probably built in the early 1900s and I loved it but the house came with the typical problems like old bathrooms and creaky floors, oh and it had a coffin closet! But that’s another story.

Anyway, upon my return from a weekend trip I was immediately informed that there had been an incident at the house. My roommates proceeded to tell me an unbelievable story that I was incredible thankful I missed. You know the one about the baby alligator in the sewer? That might not be an urban legend. I have changed names for identity protection…

Apparently, Sarah went to use the bathroom on evening and when she lifted up the toilet cover, a rat jumped out of the toilet! She screamed and ran into the hall and found Krista coming to see what was going on. They grabbed a broom and peaked into the bathroom but the door had been left open and the rat was no longer in there. They began to tip toe from room to room and found it in Krista’s bedroom. Sarah picked up a blanket and threw it on the rat so now it was trapped! What I’m about to tell you may be disturbing, so if you have a weak stomach, you may want to stop reading this now. Okay, I warned you… At a loss for what to do next (and you know that when stuff like this happens you are not thinking clearly) Krista picked up one of those cinder blocks (you know the kind used in the 80’s to make shelves and stuff) and threw it on the rat. The rest you can figure out.

Forever traumatized just by hearing the story, I hesitate for a moment every time I have to lift the lid of the toilet. And forget going to the bathroom in the dark! Ernie and I remember the tale clearly to this day even though it was 10 years ago. The strangest thing is that Krista claims she doesn’t remember it. We have decided that she has traumatic stress syndrome and has blocked the memory. After all, she was the one who committed murder…

Remember all those horribly embarrassing things that happened to you as a kid? The big ones most vivid in my memory are the kid leaning over to pick up a pencil and flipping their whole desk over. And I don’t know what desks look like now, but when I was in elementary school, they were big and clunky, with the chair attached to the desk and the top that lifted up to store all your books and belongings. So when those puppies fell it shook the room. Or how about having your skirt stuck up in your tights and walking around while everyone snickered instead of telling you?

And then there’s the really bad stuff, like spewing milk out of your nose because someone made you laugh at lunch, or throwing up on the floor in class, or choking on part of your sandwich while your friends laugh because they think you are joking. Yep, all good fun. And we don’t necessarily escape these moments as adults, but I think now we are better at laughing at ourselves or throwing out sarcasm to deflect the onlookers. I feel bad even revealing this story to you as I was only a spectator but I can’t think of anything that has recently happened to me, so hopefully it’s all in good fun since no names are mentioned…

There is a quiet woman who frequents our lunch area around 1 pm each day. Some of the employees from our building next door prefer to take breaks in our office due to its colorful decor, high ceilings, and skylights. A pleasant escape from the caves of cubicle mazes that make up most offices. I see her almost every day. She seems to forgo the lunch rush for a solitary moment out of the day when she can read and eat her meal in peace.

One day it was particularly busy in the kitchen. Because of the open architecture of our building, the kitchen and lunch tables are plotted in the middle of a main walkway and are completely open to the surrounding cubicles and offices. So when someone is having a celebration everyone in the office can hear and it also tends to draw colleagues together for water cooler talk. We greet each other and chit chat as coffee cups are filled, popcorn popped, and dishes rinsed.

Already the stage was set for someone to have a moment. Of course embarrassing things never happen when no one is around. Suddenly the woman began choking, which quickly changed to hacking. Everyone was silent and some were beginning to approach, others asked if she was okay, while most were frozen in shock. She rose from the table, took three steps over to the garbage can, and to our horror, vomited into the trash.

Fear became disgust, and disgust dissolved quickly into sympathy. Almost immediately I was thankful that it had not been me and I silently checked myself for sources of possible embarrassment. I retreated to the safety of my cubicle where no harm can come to me, and I didn’t eat for the rest of the day.

It’s that time again. And as usual I let my ballot sit on my desk for weeks until today, the last possible minute. Since I will not be around tomorrow or Thursday, I had to dedicate myself to reviewing the propositions and state representatives to make sure my votes are received by the 4th.

I just finished and am so relieved. Now only a few more days before the provoking commercials, obnoxious phone calls, and collections of yard signs disappear. It’s funny how the election begins with excitement and ends in exasperation. All that’s left is to wait for the results! Well, and then listen to the complaints of those who didn’t get what/who they wanted.

Regardless of how you feel about politics, it’s best not to bring your opinions into the work place. There is enough conflict and competition in the work place and I’ve seen it cause problems already this election. Most importantly, regardless of daily interactions, you know most of your colleagues professionally, not personally.

Urging support or rejection of certain propositions and policies could become personal attacks or discrimination unintentionally. A close friend of mine just experienced a situation such as this where a coworker began campaigning for her vote when actually he was promoting something that would impact her life directly. The incident was reported and is now an HR issue. So debate politics with your friends and family, not your cube mates.

If you ever watch movies like Heathers or Brick, you are familiar with the art of creating an original language out of plain old English. Mix a few words around, substitute a noun for a verb here and there, and presto, hip new dialect.

I’ve noticed that this phenomenon is not limited to the brilliant (or not so brilliant) minds of script writers. Just listen and you will probably find morphed language all around you. Industries and groups of all kinds seem to create words to describe things that apparently lack proper representation. And the office is no different. More intriguing even, is that the cubicle environment specifically, appears to have developed a style of communication all its own.

Cubunga aside, we have started using made-up words regularly in my office. We refer to our cubicles as cubies. People can often be heard yelling, ‘hey can you come over to my cubie for a minute?’ A recent addition by yours truly is the term resty. It’s a more discreet word for rest room, ‘let me call you back; I need to go to the resty’. We tend to refer to management as the parent of the person with whom we are speaking. Kind of like you do with your dog or kid when they have been naughty, ‘look what your dog did!’ So we say, ‘your mom was over here trying to see if I was doing any work’ or ‘your dad is making us go to that meeting’

We are in the process of developing a cubedia to document the growth of our new language. It reminds me of this episode of The Twilight Zone. Not the old ones, which were the best, but the ones they tried to remake in the eighties. There was one about this man who woke up one day and people were using the wrong words for things. Like they called chairs dinosaurs for example. And everyone could understand each other but he was like ‘what the heck is going on?’ So by the end of the episode, the language everyone was speaking, although still using English words, had become unrecognizable to him (and the viewer). The closing scene shows him sitting on the side of his daughter’s bed as she reads him a story in the new language… It was so sad now that I think about it.

To escape the redundancy of the week, I often find solace in film. So I have decided it might be a good idea to review movies watched over the weekend. I’m always looking for something new and different to watch and we all know how difficult that can be so we should do what we can to share suggestions.

This weekend I watched three movies; Sunshine, Equilibrium, and Baby Momma. Oh yeah and The Golden Compass (again) but only because someone else made me watch it.

Sunshine - Weird but interesting. Needed a bit more plot development. It’s about a team of astronauts sent to shoot a nuclear bomb into the sun to restart it (since it’s dying). The team sent before them has gone missing… and you probably get the picture - team disagrees on pivotal decision, decision results in issues and finding creepy things, etc. Worth a watching if you like movies such as Solaris.

Equilibrium - Think Matrix raw. Christian Bale, Taye Diggs - awesome fight scenes, more real-life but still impossible. Good story line.

Baby Momma - Way less funny than the previews.

Golden Compass - Completely disappointing if you have read the book (as usual)

This weekend I plan to watch all horror movies in honor of Halloween. More quick and dirty reviews to come.

Mention and review
The secretary
The Company of Men

Friday is the best day of the week in every office, but in our cubicle farm, Friday is not only a celebration of the end of the work week, it’s a chance to make a little money for the weekend.

Around 2 pm a series of loud clicks resonates from the eastern most corner of the room. Then everyone begins shouting numbers. SEVEN! is always the first of course and typically the instigator of the toss is the one to claim the sum with the best odds. To the dismay of others, this person is usually the same week after week, putting them in prime position to win the pot. But despite the seemingly unfair odds, we continue to flock to the snap of the dancing dice.

Gathering around the semi-hallway created by our rows of cubicles, we continue to shout our number of choice while holding up the visual depiction of the number with our fingers (just to make sure no one tries to steal it). Late comers are sentenced to the least desirable digits. Hanging their heads in imminent defeat, they half-heartedly toss their dollars into the growing pile. Every so often a newbie or visitor from another group is gifted the privilege of throwing the dice, but mostly this honor resides in the hands of the rollmaster. That’s just a cheesy name for the person who owns the dice…

As the giant Las Vegas dice rattle in anticipation, we chant our numbers louder and louder until the red squares roll across the carpet and come to rest on the winning combination. Cheers and moans erupt as the happy winner collects the winnings. We return to our desks with a little more energy and a kick-start to the evening, and one of us just a little bit richer.

Regardless of geographical climate, offices everywhere maintain the same brisk temperature year round. I used to live in Las Vegas, and even when the thermometer hovered at 112 degrees, I bundled up every morning to prepare for my long day in the ice box that was my cubicle.

With the unstable economy and deteriorating environment, it seems logical to make use of natural resources whenever possible. So when it’s winter and 30 degrees outside, I don’t expect to feel a cold draft from the vent above my cubicle. Just once I would like to wear my summer clothes to the office but instead it’s suits, pants, jackets, and tights 12 months out of the year.

Last year I grew tired of shivering in my chair because I forgot to bring a sweater or sitting on one hand at a time while I tried to work while keeping warm. The best cubicle accessory I own is my space heater. Not the greenest solution but it got me through the winter, keeping me cozy warm. Colleagues visited my cube just to warm up. And when spring broke and the weather grew warm, I realized that my purchase would pay off more than I ever expected.

The little heater that could is on every morning and makes an appearance periodically throughout the day. I am now in complete control of my personal thermostat. The latest request was to tote the little heater around to conference rooms whenever there’s a meeting, because as cold as the office is, the conference rooms are colder. And when I can’t bring my heater, I settle for my office chill backup: hand warmers.

I had suffered the great misfortune of missing an office birthday celebration due to an offsite meeting. Sometimes a little sugar and fat can turn your whole day around. Reaching my cube, I peered over the West wall and asked Patty if there was any cake left. “Yes there is,” she said. “Go check the kitchen.”

I dropped my laptop backpack and headed straight for the lunch area. The tables were lacking the messy aftermath of a sugar binge, but I clearly saw a cake box. Moving closer I found an untouched shortcake. Next to that was a bowl of strawberry topping and then some whipped cream. I started to help myself then thought I should double-check with Patty.

I told Patty no one had eaten the cake, but she said they had a whole extra cake and no one wanted any more.

Invigorated once again, I headed back to the kitchen and cut a generous wedge from the shortcake. The strawberries in the sauce were fresh and the whipped cream also appeared untouched. I limited myself to one piece and was not disappointed.

As I returned to my cube, Patty was standing up. “You had cake!” she said.

“Of course I did - it was great.”

“We haven’t done birthdays yet - they had to delay it to the end of the day.”

Not only did I deeply regret what I had just done, but I couldn’t face the thought of sitting through the actual birthday celebration with that big wedge out of the shortcake. It wasn’t even my birthday! I also knew this story would be repeated for the rest of my tenure with the company and beyond. It was time for a new and very cynical Leonard.

I had my head down in my cube checking how many hits I had gotten on a new tropical fish blog I started. Of the 38 visitors to the site I had determined 35 were either family or myself, and I was trying to track the other 3. Suddenly a subtle but deep roar filled the whole building followed by a whishing sound. It reminded me of what people claim they hear before an earthquake. I looked around at my cubicle neighbors and they either did not notice or did not care.

Standing up I surveyed the ceiling of the large warehouse that sheltered all our cubes. The sound had grown louder and I could almost feel a vibration in the floor. Alex across the aisle caught my eye and he must have seen not-so-subtle concern on my face. “The CEO is landing on the roof,” he said. “His helicopter.”

Well I was new at the time and did not know how often this happened, but it certainly deserved more attention than the near total apathy of my colleagues. I hurried outside to catch some of the action and maybe even meet the man - why not? My mind played through one of those instant fantasies of getting into a deep conversation on corporate strategy then heading off to Starbucks together.

As I exited into the parking lot things were abnormally quiet, in fact quieter than inside the building. I scanned the roof and the sky but there was no activity other than a few crows passing by.

If you must know, the joke was on me. The strange sound was the building manager flushing the pipes of the fire sprinkler system. It happened all the time and for most people had become part of the indiscernible gray fog that surrounds the great cubicle world. I returned to my new blog with a little less enthusiasm.

Like most cubicle dwellers, I store my perishables in the shared fridge in our communal kitchen. I’m sure you can relate to this because I have had the same experiences in every office in which I have worked. I bring my supply of lunches and snacks for the week, diligently labeled and packaged, and place the items in the refrigerator. But at least once a month, one of my items goes missing.

Now I just can’t figure out what goes through a person’s mind when they decide to just help themselves to random food. First of all, it’s rude. But more disturbing is that it’s kinda gross… I mean I can’t imagine standing there in our kitchen with the door open browsing the various frozen dishes, sandwiches, fruit and vegetables prepared specifically for someone else, and thinking “hmmm, cold pork chops and green beans sound good.”

Perhaps people feel less guilty when they pick a less personal item, like a microwavable meal or (as has happened to a friend) a can of seltzer (can’t figure out who drinks that besides the two of us…)

True story: When working in an accounting office years ago, we once ordered subs from this fabulous sub shop that has since closed, but had the most amazing sandwiches. We were all treated to a custom foot long to help us get through the extra hours we were putting in. After finishing half my sandwich, I carefully wrapped up the leftovers and (having had food stolen several times) proceeded to write my name all over the package…with a black sharpie. Now let me add that I had taken several bites out of the second half.

The next day I spent the morning looking forward to finishing my yummy treat from the night before, only to discover as I searched the fridge that someone actually ate my sub!!! Gross. And let me just say it’s not the first time that half-finished food has disappeared. That’s why I now keep my food in a colleague’s cubicle fridge.