Tales from the American Workplace

By Suckie Mills

Rachel McMillan is like the crazy aunt who comes to Thanksgiving dinner and says the most inappropriate things. Some of her words might shock you, and some will make you uncomfortable. Though you might cringe at her unforgiving and opinionated dialogue, part of you says, "You go girl." After working for many years in the financial services industry this is Rachel's unrelenting manifesto. Tales from the American Workplace.

An average working girl trying to survive growing pains and personal tragedies while laboring in cutthroat corporate America, Rachel's story begins in 1990 and continues to the present day. She tells of workdays that consist of gossiping, backstabbing, bootlicking, and posturing for higher ground. Rachel narrates how one learns a lot about life while working in cubicles: humility, generosity, patience, companionship, sharing, and what it feels like to be totally disregarded.

This story offers an inside look at the personal side of working nine to five. Not always glamorous like the movies, Rachel shares the reality of the pain, suffering, and heartaches incurred while trying to earn a living in the American workplace.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Aug 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781489704221

Suckie Mills

Suckie Mills started out by writing short stories as a hobby. She enjoys writing dramatic fiction, murder mysteries and historic ghost stories. She presently lives in Northern, NJ with her family.

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Copyright © 2015 Suckie Mills.

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Scripture quotations taken from the New American Standard Bible®, Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. (www.Lockman.org)

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

ISBN: 978-1-4897-0421-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-0422-1 (e)

LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 9/30/2015

Contents

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Beginnings

Office Romance

My Turn

The New Millennium

We Will Never Forget!

Bank Bailouts

Time to say goodbye

About the author

Acknowledgements

To my sixth grade teacher who once said to me: With that imagination, I bet you’re going to write a novel one day

The immortal words of the late Judy Garland: Always be a first-rate version of yourself, instead of a second-rate version of someone else

My dear friend C

Authors view the world thru highly sensitive eyes-Suckie Mills

In loving memory of my best friend Sandra who inspired me.

Introduction

This book is a commentary on the American work experience. It is a work of fiction, even though parts of the story are based on actual events. The narrator of this story is a fictional character named Rachel McMillan. She is a woman consumed with unlimited opinions. Rachel has a realistic approach to life that some may find disturbing. She is like the crazy aunt that comes to Thanksgiving dinner, and makes the most inappropriate comments. As you sit there cringing due to her unforgiving dialog, there is a part of you saying, You go girl!

Please try to be objective while reading this story; we are all unique individuals with our own ideals and viewpoints. If you happen to find something I wrote offensive, please don’t take it personally. Try to remember, this is a fictional story. Rachel is a complicated woman. I didn’t want to portray her as a mindless employee without a personality; she has a lot to say. She comes to a point in her existence when she discovers the error of her ways. Besides, when did we as Americans become so sensitive?

The nature of the subject matter of this book required me to change the names, locations, and certain aspects of the characters that appear on its pages. This is not an autobiography. This is a story portraying the life of your average working girl. This particular girl has spent her career surviving in the cubicles. There are millions like Rachel working all over the world. They don’t know how or why they became cubers. It’s similar to gaining weight, a gradual process. You wake up one day and realize you’ve been working in a cubicle for an indefinite period of time with no way out.

There are human characteristics you may development while working in the cubes: humility, patience, harshness, companionship, sharing, and the feeling of being totally disregarded. A high self-esteem is mandatory in this desensitizing environment. Being weak or sensitive is a liability, due to the reality that some of your co-workers may consider you to be at the bottom of the office food chain. If you find Rachel to be a little callous, she has good reason to be.

Some life lessons working in the cubes will teach you: Never allow other humans to define who you are. Don’t spend your life constantly looking for acceptance. Learn to love yourself for who you are, you will never be anyone else. In order to successfully work in a cube, you must be a people person accustomed to working in close proximity to others, there is no privacy. You hear just about every phone call your cube neighbor makes, unless of course, they are very discreet. Within a couple of weeks, you learn their entire schedule. If you happen to have a cube mate with bad hygiene habits there will be days when you feel the need to leave them a gift bag. This nicely dressed bag will contain, soap, deodorant, and a bottle of Summers Eve. This gesture would be considered offensive office behavior, so you learn to live with their lack of hygiene. If one of your fellow cubers decides, I’m going to work even though I have the swine flu, everybody gets sick.

Anyone that has ever worked in an office setting can relate with the gossip, backstabbing, and inner turmoil we have all experienced while dealing with a personal tragedy in our lives. We have mastered how to pretend that all is well on what could be the worst day of your life. There will be times when you can find consolation in your co-workers. After all, they know your life story.

I’m writing this book in a simplified format for the everyday worker to comprehend. I’m very familiar with those fabulous books, in magnificent locations, where the main character is always beautiful, and living this fantasy life with an extremely rich daddy. Everything falls neatly into place by the end of the story, and you need a PhD to understand the complicated lingo. In the real world, we are not all fortunate enough to be born with a trust fund. Life is not always a laid out plan where student loans don’t exist, and a job in upper management is waiting upon graduation. There are a lot of bumps and heartaches along the way. This story reflects a part of the American work experience rarely uncovered. It is a poignant, tragic, and hilarious tale.

Beginnings

I remember my early years of employment at a neighborhood bank. After a month on the job, I made the amateur mistake of parking in the bank president’s assigned spot. Before I could remove my coat, two guys from security appear at my desk, one of them rudely asked, Are you Rachel McMillan? I remember asking myself, Why are they here, am I fired? One guy is all red in the face, the other military serious. The serious guy looks at me, and barks in a commanding voice, You’re parked in the bank president’s spot; you need to move your car immediately. How embarrassing. I see my co-workers huddled in a bunch, the makings of a hyped up gossip conference. You can always tell which co-worker is the lead gossiper; she always has a crowd next to her cube.

By the time I make it to the elevator, I will be accused of all kinds of serious crimes. Such as, embezzlement, identity thief, drug dealing, extortion, and check fraud. By the time I make it to the parking lot the news would have spread to the fifth floor. How disappointed the main gossiper will be when I return to my desk and my only crime was parking in the wrong spot.

The truth will be hard for some to accept; in turn, they will make up even juicer stories to keep their noisy minions satisfied. Every time I walk into the lunchroom the pointing and whispering will commence. My boss even questioned me about the incident making me feel lower than the guys in the mailroom. The entire ridiculous episode could have been avoided by a simple phone call, but no, they send Frick and Frack, two wannabe cops that didn’t have what it takes to pass the police exam. This was the most excitement they experienced all week. Once it was established that I was not the authentic leader of a criminal underworld, I was welcomed back into the fold. The world of backstabbing and gossip, judging bosses, outfits, shoes, husbands, kids, nothing was beyond reach. If you’re human and breathing, you’re worthy of scorn. I was officially indoctrinated into the cube farm!

The worse mistake you can make in this toxic atmosphere is exhibit anti-sociable behavior. You’re labeled a snob or stuck-up just for being a dutiful employee. It’s similar to when you move into a new neighborhood, and choose not to socialize with your neighbors. You never invite them over to meet your family, so they come to all kinds of negative conclusions about you. It’s the same fixation in your average office setting; your cube neighbors want to know all about you. Are you an annoying neurotic type A, or a low key type B. Are you married, single, divorced, gay, straight, democrat or republican. Do you have kids, and most important, where do you live? Your address is significant, especially in a wealthy state like New Jersey. I’ve actually met people who introduced themselves as: Hello, I’m Dawn, and I live in Glen Ridge, like I really needed to know that. By now, you’ve probably guessed, I’m one of those equally annoying cynical type B personalities. Demographics don’t impress me.

I’m not concerned with where you live, how many degrees you have earned, or what kind of car you drive. It is all irrelevant to me. At the cube farm your zip code defines you. If you don’t live in a desirable area, you will be judged accordingly.

Since you’ll be spending eight hours a day or more with these people it’s best to be friendly, or they can make your work day a living hell. There was a young Asian girl in our department named Maggie, she seemed very straitlaced. We started on the same day; I remember seeing her in orientation. She was a hard worker who basically minded her business and kept to herself. We would invite her out to lunch with us on the rare occasions when we could actually afford to eat out. She always said no in a very low voice. She seemed shy, which translated to stuck-up in cube land. One day, we were all in the kitchen eating lunch along with ripping other co-workers to shreds. Maggie walks up to the sink to rinse out her bowl. She always ate alone. Maggie was an attractive girl; she carried herself like she was the victim of an unspoken tragedy or conditioning. She walked with her head down never making eye contact, and she spoke in a quite nervous tone. Socializing with fellow humans seemed to make her uncomfortable. Over the course of six months, most of us willingly shared our sordid life stories while we knew absolutely nothing about Maggie. She seemed very troubled, like she was harboring a shameful secret. One day, out of nowhere, she makes that disgusting noise that men make when they are about to spit, and spits a huge glob of phlegm in the sink. The whole room went quiet, people actually stopped eating. One lady got up, and threw her entire lunch in the garbage screaming about how grossed out she was.

Maggie turns around with this perplexed look on her face that seemed to say, Was it something I said? She received some of the nastiest looks. Some guy informs her, We don’t spit in public sinks in this country, what the hell is wrong with you? The girl is truly mortified, she really doesn’t get it. She is asked by another person in a very disgusted demeanor, Are you aware that other people have to use that sink, do you think we all want your germs? Then she has to hear once again We don’t do things like that in America, you need to go back to China with that nastiness. How did they know she was Chinese? It never occurred to these people that she may have been born in the United States. This had to be her worst nightmare due to the fact that she was so prudent. Maggie runs out of the kitchen in tears, life would never be the same for her during her employment at that bank. She would forever be known as the girl who spat in the sink. I guess she knew it too because she never came back to work after that day.

I think I should also mention the kitchen in question was never really clean. There were always nasty dishes in the sink, spilled food clogging the drain, dirty coffee pots, and to top it off a filthy sponge with bacteria growing on it that science has yet to discover. The board of health eventually shut down the kitchen in that cafeteria. It was incapable of passing a basic inspection, what a surprise. Food was never allowed to be cooked in that brewing Petri dish again. Personally, I was pissed, where else could you buy a juicy hamburger deluxe with the works for two dollars, or ten hot wings with a hefty order of fries for three dollars. I won’t even talk about the huge Sicilian slices for a dollar on pizza Fridays. True, the kitchen has issues, but the cooks were world class. Some of us were ready to stage a walkout. We actually discussed going home and creating picket signs demanding that our kitchen re-open after a thorough clean-up.

By the next day logic kicked in, and we gave in to our corporate masters. How dare we even consider making outlandish demands. In the end, we were allowed to make coffee and eat food from home in the dining area, (at our own risk). This notice was posted on three separate walls; the bank wasn’t taking any chances. The sink as usual was loaded with dirty dishes.

Disappointed employees deliberately blamed the closing of the kitchen, on the girl that spat in the sink, while washing their dishes with that filthy sponge that somehow survived the inspection.

One common phenomenon among bank employees is the fact that most have worked at numerous banks. Just about everyone you work with can read off a list of banks where they were previously employed. It’s like we didn’t learn our lesson at the first dysfunctional bank. Why volunteer for more insanity? I wish I could answer that question. The worst mistake you can possibly make is regarding money; the customer has every right to be indignant. Trust me; you have never been royally cursed out until you screw up with regards to finances. Wealthier customers are the most ferocious. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, I’m calling the bank president, or do you know how much money I have in this bank? Yes, we know how much money you have, we’re looking directly at your account.

Mergers are one of the many reasons a majority of bank employees have been around the banking block. It is the one word that can cause a panic of astronomical proportions. Once this word hits the rumor mills, it spreads like VD back in the seventies. You’ll see even the most pompous executive start to sweat. Snobs that would walk past you in the hallway with their head up in the air will suddenly start speaking to you, wanting to know if you’ve heard anything about the dreaded merger.

Mergers are hardest on those dedicated employees that think they are irreplaceable. These people truly believe the bank will cease to function without them. We labeled them lifers; this applies to employees that have been with the same bank for over twenty years. One memorable lifer was Mr. Pirelli, a dedicated employee that never called out sick the entire twenty-two years he worked for this particular bank.

I’m not implying that there is anything wrong with being a reliable employee. It’s just that some co-workers take it to a level that seems a little bizarre. In America, we live to work, for some people work is all that matters. They put their job before their family, health and general well being. Some employees are so obsessed with working they won’t even take their paid vacation days. They also allow hundreds of hours of sick days to stack up choosing instead to come to work sick. I once worked with a guy that came to work after having a major surgery with the drainage tube still attached to his body. He discharged himself from the hospital the day after his surgery. He mindlessly returned to work only to be sent home by our office manager. The bank didn’t want to be held responsible for