Life in the CalSERVES Office

Ah, the elusive office. Many in CalSERVES have heard about and visited this pristine space. Some come here every few weeks for meetings. Few know the reality of working in the office. Often, my fellow members at school sites ask me about my experience thus far in the office. Coming up with a suitable answer proves difficult because working in a setting like this is not so novel to me—most of my prior work experiences took place in an office setting, besides my term as a full-time mentor at Wright last year.

For this blog, I offered to write a piece on life in the office. In order to best articulate my feelings on this subject, I wrote a poem encapsulating my time here. I hope you enjoy it.

A Cube with a View 

My head bobs unconsciously to the 
cacophonic taps of fingers upon keyboards; 
our joints read the notes of an unseen composition, allegro. 
I devour another email, rich in its text, a signature like cupcake frosting. 

I blink; the resulting image is a mishmash of right angles, 
algorithmic in their precision. My cubicle is lined with interwoven threads 
of charcoal and peach, of granite quarries and southwestern dust. 

I sit, stare, and I forget other people exist here. 
Everywhere. My own vacuum of productivity. 
Then someone calls me. I text them. They fax me. I email them. 
We engage in the electric slide, the techno tango, 
making up the moves and songs as we go along. 

A child appears and people swarm like ducks to an open palm of breadcrumbs. 
My spreadsheets have replaced my students: I protect them, 
teach them new formulas, respond to error messages and data disagreements; 
cells tattle on each other, but with a click, everyone is friends again. 

I get up; the grey carpet is now crimson, a runway lined with adoring fans. 
Strutting to the kitchen, I wave and smile and pretend the fluorescent bulbs 
flash at me; coworkers scream my name as I pass by, asking for my autograph 
on a timesheet. A Starbucks mermaid is my Oscar trophy; 
my supervisor hands it to me and I tear up during the acceptance speech. 

It was once an enigma, a maze of plastic and frosted rectangles,
where the cogs of CalSERVES hid and hashed out. 
I often heard “the office” uttered as if it were an individual. 
“That’s what the office said.” “Let me ask the office.” 
However, I’ve infiltrated the inside and have come to spread 
the juicy gossip: behind that voice on the phone, 
behind those glossy glass doors, behind the privacy screens of cubicles— 
there is no false wizard, no other-worldly entity. 
There are people. Smiling. Answering questions. Laughing. 
Finalizing the fiscal. Besieging the budgetary. Caring. 
They are the instructions to our IKEA bed, 
the plumber to our leaky pipes, 
the heart to our tin man. 

by Patrick Link, CalSERVES Local VIP Leader