Since I spend a good portion of my (loosely defined as) awake time in this fuzzy box, I’ve decided that there are some things that are just poor form when it comes to life in Cubeville. And, since lists with names that contain the words “The 10 Commandments” seem to be relatively popular, I’ve put together one of my own. Or rather, wrote down what was given to me. Since I couldn’t find any stone tablets, and frankly, they look cumbersome, I chose the web.

1. Thou shalt not speak to your doctor about the results of your colonoscopy on your cubicle phone, or break up with your boyfriend/girlfriend on same. The “walls” of a cubicle are designed for the impression of privacy, yet in reality, all those around can hear everything thou sayest. Just keep that in mind. If you really feel that a private conversation must be had, find thy way to the nearest area that actually has a door. And close it.
2. Thou shalt not use an annoying musical ring tone on they mobile phone, and by annoying, I referreth to any musical ring tone. Like unto the idea of an “inside voice,” thou shalt keep your phone’s ringer at a reasonable volume. Whilst I am on the subject, thou shalt also take thy mobile phone with thee when thou goest to lunch, or to a meeting, yea, even unto the can. Even though you don’t have to answer it if it rings, at least it isn’t sitting on your desk, blasting “La Cucaracha” at your coworkers. Blessed are they that mourn your choice of ring tone, for they will inherit your office supplies upon your smiting.
3. Thou shalt not break wind in your cubicle. One would think this could be left unsaid, but, alas, I was wrong. (Thanks for ruining My perfect record.) Just because your cubicle may be the same size as a bathroom stall and have a similar wall structure, does not mean that it is a restroom. Unless your chair is the type that flusheth, of course, in which case, thou shouldst probably seek new employment anyway.

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Today, for whatever reason, I woke up with one of those did-a-bookcase-fall-on-my-head-last-night headaches. Combined with the fact that I’m not a morning person anyway, I was particularly grouchy by the time left the house. I was, of course, late, and I didn’t have time to swing by the new Starbucks near my house, although on the ride in it occurred to me that a little caffeine may be just what the doctor ordered. I decided to drive fast and make up a little time, whereby freeing me up to stop at the one near my office.

By the time I got there, I could barely see, so the order of the day was coffee, black, stat! When I went inside, there were only two people in line in front of me, so I figured it would be quick. Today though, the karma police were about to throw me in jail.

The first person in line, the one at the register, was a little old lady, probably seventy-five years old, and on any other day, probably the sweetest little thing you would ever want to sit and chat with over coffee.Today, however, I wasn’t having any of it. She was speaking to the tattooed/pierced/goateed barista dude that “Well, you know, I’ve heard of this place. I thought I’d come in and try it. You’re never too old to try new things! Can you explain to me what those are?” She pointed to the menu.
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