Study Finds Cubicles To Be Soundproof

A recent study has found that when you take personal calls at your desk, not a single one of your cubicle neighbors can hear a word that you say.  Acoustical engineers from several leading universities have determined that an invisible, soundproof, barrier rises up out of the floor, encases you in a bubble, and prevents everybody in the immediate vicinity from hearing about your plantar fasciitis and your gambling addiction, and even that one time you may have been talking about having murdered someone.

According to researchers, it is a widely held misconception that if your cubicle neighbor is sitting on the opposite side of a one-inch-thick fabric wall, they will be forced to listen to every second of your annoying, bullshit, personal conversations.  When in truth, the study finds that you can say whatever gross, disturbing, and totally weird thing that you want, and your coworkers will just think that you're working really hard and doing your job.  They won't have heard a thing.  Not even the part about how you had diarrhea all last night.
 

The totally soundproof chambers

The rising of the invisible, soundproof, barrier may be triggered by speaking the words "Jiffy Lube," "What are we doing for Thanksgiving," and/or "Let me get on Expedia and give you a call back," although some evidence suggests that repeatedly clearing the phlegm from ones throat may also be effective.

While the invisible, soundproof, barrier has been confirmed, further research is needed to determine whether or not people standing outside of your cubicle can still see you scratching your ass.

Performance Evaluation Asks Secretary About Accomplishments, Goals

In a totally uncalled for, dick move, Human Resources has asked a secretary to complete a Performance Evaluation detailing her accomplishments from the past year.

"Are they kidding?" asks the secretary, squinting at her computer screen because she can't believe that's an actual question that anybody would ask of someone who routinely empties the K-cups out of the Keurig machine. "I mean, they've seen my job description, right?"

The Performance Evaluation, which is distributed to all employees regardless of how depressed it will make some of them, is due on November 16th.

"I haven't killed myself yet. Does that count?" sort of jokes the secretary as she tries to just click Submit without filling in any of the comment boxes. "Crap, that doesn't work."

The secretary, who has mentally run through all of her typical tasks, numerous times, is unable to pick a single one that could non-sarcastically be referred to as an accomplishment.

“Answering the phone, opening the mail, bringing the Fed Ex packages outside to the Fed Ex box. Could that be one? I mean, I always get it out there before the 6:00 p.m. pick-up time.” Upon being informed that, no, that is not an accomplishment but rather a regular duty that a Golden Retriever could perform, the secretary returns to staring despondently at her computer screen, only to find that the next question asks about goals she plans to set for the coming year.

“Christ.”

While it would seem reasonable that HR develop separate evaluations – one for employees who work on important projects and make actual decisions, and one for employees that print out Google Map directions to Town Hall – they have consistently failed to do so.

“Do they really need to rub it in my face like this?” asks the secretary, catching out of the corner of her eye the stapler that she once spent two hours trying to un-jam. “I guess I’ll just say that I plan to ‘catch up on my filing’ and maybe ‘take a class in Word’ or something.  That shows ambition, right?”

After drumming her fingers on the keyboard for several seconds, the secretary decides to type a single period into all four comment boxes before hitting Submit.  As of press time, the secretary was seen heading home to work on her second novel.