#wrtiersbloque

My favorite part of any day in my corporate job is my stroll to and from meetings where I get to meander down various aisles and enjoy the not so secret cube of my colleagues. Many cubes are empty or have just enough bits and pieces of a person’s home/work life to remind them that they get to leave their gray padded cell when the clock strikes five. Their cubes simply say, “This is only a temporary state. I get to rejoin real life soon.”

Some people however, create a cube world filled with fantasy, mystery, fancy and weirdness. It may be their real life. Their cubes hold the key to their alter egos, secrets, hopes and dreams. Some cubes scream, “I’m lonely” while others whisper, “I’m the guy that’s might bring a gun to work.” 

My first stop in any cube walk is the homage to the troll doll. This is a piece of corporate Americana that can be found in every office in America. It speaks to my heart and makes me feel connected to everyone stuck in a cube. Per what one might imagine, Trolls are stuck to every single available surface in and on the cube. Each inch of soft, gray cubicle wall is infected writhing plastic tanned bodies with pot bellies and acrylic neon hair. Some trolls have clothes, others are bejeweled, but most are naked as they are intended to be. It is mystifying, disturbing and somewhat inappropriate.

Another cube, usually the second stop on my Monday walk, can also be found in most offices. It’s the “I Love Disney” cube. Instead of naked trolls covering every inch of gray, the cube is lost in Disney paraphernalia: pins, stuffed Mickey, Minnie’s, and Donald’s, pens and pencils that are only on display and not for use, pictures of the cube’s inhabitant with each family member and each Disney character, specialty banners and flags, deflated Mylar Mickey balloons, plastic bags, tickets that span 1986 to the present and mickey mouse ear hats with the embroidered name. It’s exhausting and fascinating like an episode of Hoarders. When a grown adult (with or without children) loves Disneyland that much, their cube says, “I’ve given up on life so now I have no life. Disneyland is real!!”

Cube number three of my typical Wednesday meander is one that is over-filled with a mother’s devotion. Pictures of kids and their art work cover every free space of cube. Each item is layered and ordered with construction paper and extra baubles of memorabilia. The cube is actually a scrap book to her children and their trite activities. Even the outside wall of the cube is papered with pictures of the woman’s myriad tots to ensure no one will forget she is a mother.  Sadly, the only people that want to see that much of her kids are her and the other two child obsessed weirdos, one of which, doesn’t have any children but really likes bath time pics of the young ones.

My all-time favorite type of cube (cubes four through six on the cube walk) is the teeny bopper bedroom themed cube. There are various versions of this, but in each instance you can’t remember if you’re at work or you if you wondered into a thirteen-year-old’s sanctuary. One forty-something cube loves the Jonas brothers, while a fifty-something cube worships the teens on American Idol. There are photographs, autographs, posters and album covers. These are not the cubes of hoarders. The placement of the items is precise and alter-like. Once in a while, they fandom gets a bit crazy and color printouts appear as if the midday urgency of their Jonas love needed the gratification of an inkjet.

I try not to judge as I am a true admirer. What else would entertain and soothe me as I walk to yet another meeting, if not the accidental installation art of my colleagues?