This is a picture of my cube. This is where I spend an inordinate amount of time. On my good days, I get in the groove of writing. So much so, that when friends stop by to say hello or ask a question, I jump out of my seat. But that's a good thing. It means that I am completely focused on my work -- probably way past the point of being able to speak to another human -- but high on the "employee engagement" scale.
Bad days in my cube don't happen too often and are usually the result of outside forces I can't control. Like the SME (Subject Matter Expert) who I have to chase down. When I do, and ask her a question she repeats my question like I'm on the witness stand. "Did you say you wanted to know when I would send you that information? Is THAT WHAT YOU JUST SAID?". And then when I say yes, she just says "Oh, OK. That's what I thought you said".
Let me give you a quick tour of my cube: On the left side is my library with the latest AP Style Guide. Above that is the newest area of my desk: the X-rated Corner. That's where I keep my WTF stamp and my new 2012 Texts From Last Night desk calendar. These things are important to keep me entertained while SMEs are pretending we are both on an episode of Law and Order.
Ok, so back to the tour: we have your basic family photos, a fan, a large latte, two monitors for ease of cut/paste, and a box of Claritin. Before you think I am one of those wierd middle-aged women who have a doll collection or, in this case, a penchant for stuffed animals, let me correct: the Sesame Street dolls are all over the office because we "partner" with them on a food and nutrition program for our members. I can hear you now. "Yeahhhh. SURE!". No really! That's really what it is. For those in the know, it screams "I'm a team player. Go team!" ("And let me keep my job, thank you.")
A few other sentimental items can be seen. On the shelf, an authentic artificially gold-plated replica of Sisyphus that was on my Dad's desk at The Letter Shop in Poughkeepsie, New York, so many years ago. It means everything to me and reminds me that I am doing a modern version of what he did years ago, sans laptop. And of course, the other item on the desk -- bright orange -- is the MOMA paperclip magnet in the form of a porcupine from, who else, Hadley.
I think I covered everything pretty much. I do have a magic wand that was given to me by someone who later tried to "off" me at work. But I am the hardy type and don't cease and desist easily: like a piece of gum on your shoe, or an earthworm that you cut in half and that just goes on to live two lives and have fun doing it. That's me.