10 February 2009
I am a cubicle-dweller. I push papers from one side of the cube to the other. Sometimes I load papers in UPS envelopes and a man in brown socks takes them from me and delivers them to other people in cubes.
We cubicle-dwellers are not people. We are resources or commodities. We have an internal value that must be extracted. Maybe that makes us like oranges.
Yes, we are oranges. We cubicle-dwellers are bright citrus fruit. And we are placed in these cubes, these juicers, in order that we might be squeezed and scrunched until all of the value within us, all of the juice, has been collected. We are then a mound of sticky pulp and rind.
I am a cubicle-dweller.