everyone who works in a cubicle farm knows this: they are not magical bubbles of sound-proofed quietude. work in a call center, and not only do you have the constant, never-ending chatter of phone calls, but you also have all the daily, work conversations going on at the same time. there are a few women who work on the other side of the cubicle divide, basically sharing a cube wall with me, who just will NOT shut up. i have to hear their daily inane conversations, and one of them doesn't have an inside voice. (granted, in real life i don't either, but i've been trained well and keep it down in my cube.) it's all back and forth, "i did this this weekend," or "my boyfriend's a retard because of this," or "my favorite serial killer is gary ridgeway that." it's literally never ending. i never actually hear them on the phone, which makes me crazy because for some reason i get more calls than anyone else i work with. where i work has also outfitted with us with fancy IM programs that we all use, so when we can, we can avoid talking out loud and creating noise. in theory, this works wonderfully. in reality, today i was the bitch who finally complained to my supervisor. i just couldn't take it anymore. lord knows i am not a paragon of goody-goody tattle-tailer, but what sanity i have left, i wanted to keep. i was nice about it, and actually phrased it like this, "maybe they could just be more mindful of their volume?" ugh. now i'm saying "mindful" out loud.
they also put our supervisors on the floor with us, with modestly larger cubicles, which i think is to keep morale up (makes them less "management" and more "person who listens to my complaints"), but it has the unintended side effect of making all the conversations they have with everyone audible. most of the people i work with are super quiet, but one of the ladies that works on the floor under another supervisor comes to talk to my boss all the damn time. she's the lady without the inside voice, who spends too much time talking about serial killers, and have i mentioned the large, skeleton tattoo that graces her neck? i'm all for self-expression baby, but the moment you tattoo the grim reaper on your neck, you're basically telling the world to "fuck off." am i wrong? i'm going to get a teardrop tattoo by my eye next, and see if it raises any eyebrows. (it won't.)
i love big chunks of my job, and i hate to be a debbie downer, but the past few weeks have been seriously draining. a lot of people took voluntary leave because call volumes go down this time of year, while our bosses keep telling us how awesome this time of year is because "there are no calls." except that those of us who stick around answer more than ever simply because there isn't anyone else around. call centers in general tend to be staffed by primarily women as well, and while i love my sisters and give money to all kinds of feminist organizations, i do get tired of hearing about how everyone's boyfriend/husband is so fucking dumb and their kids are so smart and amazing, and did you watch american idol last night? i know, first world problems. it's cliche, but sadly true.