Written for the enjoyment of my co-workers for my last day of work at the job I worked at for 4 3/4 years before deciding to leave. The name of the company has been changed for reasons one usually changes that type of information.
Walking into the Dairy Farm I may shiver from the chill and realize I can’t name everyone on the opposite side of the partition, but when I think back to the spaces that have housed Fake Name Communications, Inc., I’ll take the chill and nameless faces any day– after all there is a seating chart I can look at.
Almost five years ago I walked into the office on my first day and was greeted by Will Smith, Tommy Lee Jones, and Darth Vader. These celebrities turned out to be gatekeepers to a Jungle of tiny red monkeys hanging out not in a barrel but from a canopy of gray wiry cords where the natives flung not their own feces but rubber bands. Amid this chaos I was so inducted into the society of Crack Counters.
Soon the wilds of the Jungle were to be traded in for a shiny new habitat. Unforeseen exile, however, came first. Feeling like vagabonds we pitched our tents in the conference room below our Jungle. In the cramped confines of Camp, this brief period brought together neighboring groups and forced us to share everything.
One day Camp moved to the City of Towering Boxes in the garage of the newly built Tradewinds. It was spacious, gray, and unfriendly. Our group only interacted with former Camp-mates while waiting in line for the one functioning bathroom. We had to build great shields to be used against our new nemesis – the Afternoon Sun. The onset of the Dust Period is little documented, but those who lived through it will never forget.
The opening of bathrooms for both sexes harbingered the Big Move. Excitement mounted as our sun-blinded eyes were ushered into the soothing darkness of the Cave. The shadows promised cooler temperatures and victory over the Sun. Months passed. Our eyes continued to squint, now from the Darkness. The brightest area of the Cave taunted us, showing how time passed – in each time zone. Both the light and heat the Sun provided were missed.
The population of the Cave grew with a new society of Asset Extractors. The leaders of the Cave soon promised yet another home. We questioned this new home’s existence and speculated what perils we would face. We had already experienced the wilds of the Jungle, the unsettledness of Camp, the blindingly bright City, and the dark Cave. Our elders told the Extractors that hoping for better was a fool’s errand.
Those of us who first visited the new dwelling named Dairy Farm did not seem very confident. There were murmurs of “too much light”, “too much space.” Once we moved, and our eyes adjusted, the Crack Counters and Asset Extractors took to our newest environment. In a matter of weeks we “Cave Dwellers” made the transformation into “Office Employees”.
Four and three-quarter years later I may no longer be greeted daily by movie stars nor know everyone’s name but my eyes are no longer squinting, my coat is rarely worn and like I said before, I can always check the Office seating chart.
© copyright Lindsay M. Hinkle 2011