March Madness Part 2: MEGA MILLIONS

Well my March Madness pool has all but drained. Note to self for next year: screw allegiance.  Temple U? More like Temple Who? So that Cinderella story didn't work out...with my chances of winning the rather impressive pot worth a few hundred bucks languished, I have decided to go big or go home-I have moved on to what I have dubbed, March Madness Part 2, aka Mega Millions lottery.  The more impressive pot. Way more.

The Mega Millions pool is worth an estimated $500 Million.  Or basically in simpler terms-my paycheck times like a gazillion.  At $1 a ticket and your chance of dying by having a vending machine fall on top of you (no really I heard it on the radio on the way into work this morning) greater than your chance of winning, those are my kind of odds. Math and stats and probability were never my thing.

At my company, like thousands across Mega Million states, office pools are all the rage.  Everyone chips in a few bucks in effort to secure more tickets (aka chances of winning).  However, that dream can be a nightmare if you don't  follow these tips here.  You have been warned.  As I see it, you have 3 options:

1) Either pay $250/hr to a lawyer to draw up provisions for the $1 you put into an office pool for a lottery drawing where your odds of winning are estimated at about one in 176 million.  Again, no Math junkie here but...

2) Go it alone.  Walk your dollar and a dream (shout out to Biggie!) right past your co-workers cubes and out to the gas station...

OR

2) Take that $1 straight down the vending machine and get the $100,000 Bar.  Mega Tenth of a delicious Million right there! JUST BE CAREFUL!

-Jill

Not O-Kcups!

I am a coffee junkie. If I could walk around with an IV pole of java pumping through my veins, I would.

I make a huge pot in the morning but by the time my sprint out the door beckons, I have left the pot half full (caffeine awakens my positive spirit-alas, if you will note I do not leave the pot half empty upon my commute).  Most days, I will take a travel mug in the car as well.  I told you, a junkie.

For the longest time I would peel into Wawa to get my hands on a 24 oz to have at my desk. Again, yes, a junkie.  Wawa is literally across the street from my building.  At the red light, I can turn left into Wawa and secure my 24 ozs and another day being 5 minutes late, or I could head right (and be right and do right and go right) into my building. On time. I often feel like this is exactly how Frost felt whilst penning The Road Not Taken. Although I am still trying to figure out which one he would have thought less traveled.

Anyway, I diverge and digress. My whole point is back in December, my Department decided to chip in and buy a Keurig. If you have to even ask what this is, you are dead to me. I could get to work faster, I could secure additional coffee more cheaply and I could start making less coffee at home and not feeling like I am wasting the world's water supply with my habit.  And surprisingly, the coffee is pretty darn good.  There's always something though isn't there? What's that saying, if something sounds too good to be true...

Turns out those little K-Cup suckers are not recyclable.  Listen, I am no hardcore environmentalist but I pride myself on my carbon footprint.  Unlike my actual footprint, my carbon one is dainty.  It has been estimated that over 7.5 million Keurig brewers have been sold.  Office cubes and offices, dentist and doctors office, hair salons, residential kitchens you name it are littered with these things.  And now, our landfills are apparently littered with the disposable cups as well.

Keurig's website read the following: "Reducing the environmental impact of our packaging materials and brewing systems is a top priority for Keurig. It is a challenge to create a portion pack that is recyclable and delivers an extraordinary cup of coffee; however, Keurig is actively working to meet this challenge head on".

Keurig got me into this brew-ha-ha and they will get me out.

-Jill

Lunch Time

It usually hits your nostrils around 12pm; those lingering smells that seems to circle my cube and land straight into my nose. It’s the lunch hour, and all at once lunches migrate together and form a smell that can either be delicious or down right hideous.

The cafeteria is no better. We only have two microwaves, and one is usually broken. By 12pm you will be the 5^th or 6^th person waiting in line just to heat up your lunch. Being that far behind will easily squash 15 minutes to your lunch hour. If you are pressed for time, oh well! Better pack a peanut butter and jelly sandwich! Because by the time you reach the front, your frozen lunch has melted away allowing you to knock off a few minutes on the microwave heat up instructions. When you finally reach the microwave everyone stares at you. Feeling rushed, you struggle to heat up your lunch and look for something to do to kill the time.

The best is leftover fish. Who doesn’t love the smell of fish microwaving, filling the air with that glorious scent of the sea?! I think that mixed with macaroni and cheese are two of the worst smells during lunch. Oh wait…add broccoli to that list as well. I’m sure we have all heated up something stinky, and I apologize for this. I am now aware and will not make people suffer anymore. I now realize that some food is meant to be kept at home.

Thank goodness spring is officially here. The beautiful weather offers the opportunity to sit outside away from those smells, or a chance to adventure out for lunch.

We are one, we are the same

Under these fluorescent lights (where every zit we’ve had since birth simultaneously becomes visible), and within these gray, radio-factory-in-Russia walls we sit in prefabricated conformity. So similar are the cubes that I have, on my way back from the bathroom, actually sat down and started working at someone else’s desk. Couldn’t tell the difference (but I was in a decongestant haze).

So our individuality is limited to how we dress (except for the overall awesomeness of Lisa's fabric-lined cube walls). That is our statement of workplace nonconformity – an emphatic, solemn declaration that states: “I am me!”

But sometimes in our effort to be different we become the same.

With all the colors and styles of clothing available, statistically the chances of wearing the same thing to work as your cube mate on the same day are slim. But just like winning the lottery, or being Lee Harvey Oswald (who worked in a radio factory in Russia, btw), sometimes we’re in the right place at the right time – or the wrong time (depending on your point of view).

Some recent collisions of fashion:

A spirit of fellowship, eh comrades?

What Are Tan Towels?

In the past two hours I have heard the term “tan towels” used at least 10 times. I had no idea what they were, but I found out quickly that they work. My sister, who is leaving for a European vacation tomorrow, decided to purchase tan towels to make her skin look “sun kissed” instead of “winter kissed.” She used the towels last night and this morning her skin has a natural glow. Seeing her beautiful skin sparked a conversation between my female cube neighbors. Now everyone wants to tan towel, and now everyone is going to Ulta at lunch to purchase them.

It makes sense considering that we sit in our cubes for a good majority of the day with no vitamin D. Our skin needs something…and maybe a tan towel is the healthy answer.

If you are a little skeptical of the tan towel, do a Google search and read some of the reviews. The reviews say the product works. There was only one con and that was the fear of the uneven tan line. It can definitely be avoided with exfoliating before spreading the tanning solution over your skin. You can also wear gloves. 

Since spring is around the corner, help yourself and your skin to some tan towels.

~ Lisa

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year...

Take a hike, Christmas (I'll give you the number #2 Seed!), I am talking about MARCH MADNESS people-the revelry that combines sports, a little gambling and slacking off at work.  Joy to the World!  Cue this scene for my Christmas analogy:

Experts say March Madness sucks up about 90 minutes of workers' attention for every day of the games, and lunch breaks tend to extend beyond the usual time limits.  Like Christmas in March!

I would feel really bad about this statistic (no I wouldn't), except that the "Commish" of our office pool is actually part of our Management team.  It's as if by not participating in the pool, you might botch your hopes for the next promotion.  Consider it taking one for the team!

Go TEMPLE!

-Jill

Gleaming the Cube

by Mike

Most people who have actual offices can sit at the desk, face the door and mentally qualify visitors as friend or annoyance as they arrive (or intrude) – and act accordingly. We cubed are not so fortunate.  Doorless, and with our backs turned, we are at the mercy and whim of the co-worker pop-in.

Here are the ways I have been “popped-in upon”: 

1.     The soft knock.  This barely audible, light tap on the cube edge is favored by the diffident and extremely polite. These people typically understand that you are busy. They stand not assumedly, but in serendipitous anticipation at the imaginary cube door until invited in, almost as if to say: “I can’t believe I’m standing here, but since I have your attention…”

2.     Those who start talking before they are in sight (and barely in earshot). These people know timing. They can yell “Hey, Mike!” from a distance and conclude with their demands as they arrive in your cube. I find that the best way to handle this crassness is, when you sense the person coming, pick up the phone and act like you are on an important call. Most will do an about face and leave (rather than suffer your distracted, slightly-annoyed, “I’m-on-the-phone” wave); others, however, will wait, forcing you to feign an entire phone conversation.  Which leads me to…

3.     Just stand there. Yes, there are co-workers who have come a long way to see you – some from as far away as the floor above.  They endured an exhausting elevator ride to be here and they will not be deterred. But they won’t speak up either. It is customary in this approach to enter your cube as quietly as a church mouse after a Saturday night bender and simply stand and stare at the back of your head. This is favored by the non-assertive, for they rely on that sixth-sense, that innate ability we all have to know when we are being watched, and not on making their presence known themselves. 

I am uncertain as to which of these is preferable because each one is met by me with the same expression of confused, abstracted, disappointment… WAIT!!!!  I just returned from visiting a co-worker’s cube. She was wearing ear buds and jamming silently, I am guessing, to……. nothing.  Brilliant - she avoided my pop-in, despite my trying ALL THREE of the above! Absolutely brilliant!

Pay Day Playlist #1

TGIF!  Welcome to our new installation, Pay Day Playlist.  Every two weeks we will provide a kick butt soundtrack to finish off your work week strong and get you ready to head into the weekend with a kick in your step.  All tracks courtesy of our uber talented co-worker, JULES! (can I get a Hey Ho! ps-I added a few tracks girl, couldn't resist).   Have a Pay Day Playlist you think will be music to our readers' ears, hit us up?

LBJ (cubed)

When I was graduating college in 1995 and looking for a job (and working in a produce department), I knew that somewhere in the world there was some cubic footage with my name in it. Must have been strung out on legumes.

At 8.5’ wide by 8.5’ deep by 5’ tall – my fourth, post-graduation cube is slightly larger than the average prison cell, but without plumbing (or sodomy).  I have been here for 10 years – the longest I have ever in my life been in one consistent space. I was 29 when I entered, now I’m almost 39. Getting older – starting to fart dust.

Besides work, a lot has happened among these drab, gray, slightly sulky walls.  I have been married and divorced, fallen out of my chair and had a thumbtack stuck in my hand.  I have Googled, and been very interested in, topics such as “Bulgarian cabinet making” and “Are vests in style?” and I have lost some hair, but abandoned pleated, cuffed pants – which is a trade-off I was glad to make. I have loved and lost, watched and discussed “LOST,” and was even half blind for a while (the magazines I designed then are a little crooked). While in this cube I received the Sacrament of Confirmation, stopped attending Mass, got over my fear of roller coasters, and learned to make cochinita pibil. Friendships have dwindled and kindled, I have eaten off the floor, discovered I was not a germaphobe after all, done headstands, trusted, been headstrong, foolish, persistent, buzzed, hurt, and happy.

So there is serious mileage in these 361.25 cubic feet. I don’t know what it all means, except that now I am sitting in my cube, smacking my lips on legumes, and supposed to be working. Next Google search: “inane blog posts.”

Always Wipe!

 "If you eat at your desk and you don't wash your hands, you might as well be eating at the toilet," says Bill Flynn, Everclean Services.  A University of Arizona study found a typical workspace has 400 times more germs than a toilet.

As I ponder this disgustingly disturbing statistic, I am eating at my desk. Where I always eat.  Just greattttt.  I mean, really, you try to alleviate one bad habit or try to improve upon behavior (read: I try to save money by not eating out at lunch), and bam, all your efforts go right to the sh*tter.  So rather than eat my lunch in the ladies room which would be weird (but not really any weirder than some of the antics I have seen go down there come to think of it), I just stocked up on a bunch of these:

So before you unwrap the wrap, a word to the wise.  Grab a wipe! As in that kind to the left, not the kind in the bathroom.

-Jill