JIMMY’S DAY ONE -- Welcome To The Cube
Poor Jimmy, all alone in his cube, his first day at work, one worker in a building filled with a thousand, in a company of ten thousand, in a professional world of millions, as insignificant as one tiny ant in a colony, the smallest ant, the weakest ant, the ant least likely to succeed.
Pathetic, isn’t he? His white dress shirt too big in the shoulders, his tie poorly tied, his ill-fitting khaki pants sporting a logo with an anchor above the back pocket. Does he really expect anyone to take him seriously?
He’s fresh from business school, carrying a copy of his MBA in his leatherette briefcase. He got the job because of the degree, which happens to be from an Ivy League school. The company recruiter almost always hires the Ivy Leaguers, no matter how disappointing they look in person. Besides, as an assistant to the assistant account coordinator, the lowest rung on the corporate ladder, Jimmy couldn’t cause much harm.
Also, the recruiter gets a bonus when an open slot is filled within a week, so when she sees a candidate that seems to shower regularly and is smart enough to turn on his computer, she hires him. And thus, Jimmy is in his cube, staring at his computer screen, waiting for the blue loading screen to go away so he can start his first day.
He stands. He looks over the gray wall of his cube. He’s in the middle of a field of cubes, stretching to the horizon in every direction. His “welcomer” (a tired-looking woman from Human Resources who rattled off the company rules and regulations with an android’s monotone) said that more than 300 people work on his floor. He can hear them clacking on keyboards, occasionally coughing, sometimes mumbling, sometimes whispering, sometimes their phones ringing, but he can’t actually see one other living soul. He sits back down. The blue loading screen is still loading.
He exhales. He doesn’t know what to do. He looks at his phone, but it doesn’t ring, doesn’t offer a friendly voice telling him where to go or what to do. He doesn’t know where his boss, Dick, sits, or what his number might be. There isn’t a company directory in his cube. He should ask for one.
Yes, good, he thinks. He now has a reason to talk to one of his cube mates, break the ice a little by asking for some minor help. He straightens his tie, stands, adjusts his pants, tucks in his shirt. He glances at his computer. The blue loading screen still blinks at him.
He walks out of his cube, walks around its outside wall, and arrives at another opening where he does indeed find a human-like life form. The name tag outside the cube’s opening reads, “Bob.”
Inside, a plump man in a white shirt, khakis and poorly tied tie is whispering into a phone intently. His cube his filled with framed pictures of sports cars, sometimes on beaches, sometimes on race tracks, sometimes with bikini clad models sitting on the hoods.
“Bob likes cars,” Jimmy thinks. “That will give us something to talk about, maybe.”
Bob glances at Jimmy and doesn’t stop whispering into the phone. He says: “No. I said no. Not at all. No. I have to go. I said I have to go. No.”
Jimmy waves and smiles. Bob turns his back to Jimmy and stares at the framed picture of a red BMW M3 that’s next to his computer monitor. He continues into the phone: “Maybe. Well, no. Probably not. No. I really have to go.”
Jimmy breathes deep, in, then out, then he walks on.
Before he can get to the next cube and try again to make human contact, he hears a phone ring. Could it be his phone? It does seem to be coming from that direction. He trots around to his cube and sure enough, his phone his ringing, signaling the start of his workday, his new job and his new career.
He answers the phone as quick as he can grab it, just after the fourth ring, and hears nothing but a dial tone. He missed the call. The voice mail light lights, a dim red glow next to the caller ID window, which reads, “Dick Wadde.” His boss just called and he missed it, his new boss with the truly unfortunate name. He reminds himself not to even smile about it.
The computer’s blue loading screen has gone away, replaced by a box that wants a User ID and Password. No one gave Jimmy a user ID and password. Maybe that’s what his boss wanted, to give him his password, and maybe some direction on what he should be doing.
No one gave him instructions on how to get voice mail, so he can’t actually listen to the message his boss left him.
Jimmy sits. He looks at the empty gray walls of cube. He wishes he had pictures of cars to hang. He wishes someone would talk to him, tell him what to do, let him prove himself to be smart and capable and worthy of his paycheck.
He hears Dick’s voice, floating over the top of his cubes. He recognizes it from the job interview. Dick’s voice always seems to be booming, like his volume is turned up two notches higher than everyone else’s. He’s an assistant account representative, but he carries himself like a CEO who just got a pay raise.
“First day on the job and already I can’t find him,” Dick says. “Why is it not possible for us to hire good people?”
Dick appears in the doorway to Jimmy’s cube. Dick’s in a blue suit, well-tailored, with a bright red tie over a crisp white shirt. Dick looks like he’s running for president.
“There you are,” he says to Jimmy. “I thought you were all ready AWOL on me. You have everything you need?”
Jimmy stands.
“Well, not really,” Jimmy says. “I don’t have a password for the computer, or the voice mail. But I’m looking forward to starting work and I was wondering what projects you want me to start on. I’m really anxious to get going.”
“Yeah, we really need to talk about all that. Thing is, I have a meeting right now. What I want you to do is go back to Human Resources, find your welcomer, tell her she’s an idiot and she’s wasting your time and my time, and then tell her to get your computer and phone set up, and also, you’re going to need lots of legal pads and lots of pens. I hope you’re good at taking notes. I talk really fast.”
“Got it. I can do that. Thanks again for this opportunity.”
“Yeah. I gotta go. Glad to have you on board.”
Jimmy is about to extend his hand for a friendly and professional shake, but Dick has disappeared. Jimmy breathes, in, then out. He wonders who Dick was talking to before he reached his cube.
He realizes he has no idea where Human Resources is or how to find his welcomer. He feels helpless, abandoned, and that it’s his fault for not knowing what to do, what to ask, who to ask or how to ask.
He looks around his barren cube. There are still thumbtacks in the walls, where someone had posters or something pinned up. There is a coffee mug cast aside in one corner. It reads “Caffeine, alcohol, killing my boss…I’ll choose caffeine…for now.”
The pencil drawer in his desk is slightly ajar. He opens it and finds the items that seem to be in every pencil drawer everywhere in the universe, five paperclips, 36 cents in change, two rubber bands (one broken), two pencils, and an old business card.
He picks up the business card. It reads: “White Collar Warrior – In today’s corporate battlefield, you can be a general, with my help. Call…”
“Who was in this cube before me?” he wonders. “And where did he, or she, end up?”
END OF CHAPTER ONE, PART ONE
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