Thursday, April 10, 2014

Working in a Cube Is HELL

When you're a Certified CrankyPants (CCP), working in a cube can be nightmarish. As I type this, someone is rustling around with a candy bar wrapper, making an ungodly racket in this otherwise quiet office. This person shouldn't be hungry. Want to know how I know? BECAUSE HE JUST FINISHED ROOTING/RUSTLING/CHOMPING through what must have been a family-sized bag of the noisiest chips ever made! That's how I know. It took him *24* minutes to make his way loudly through the contents of that bag. I was gritting my teeth and watching the little clock on the bottom right-hand side of my computer the entire time.
  • 1:50  Bag makes its first appearance [crinkle crinkle]
  • 1:50 Cube dweller (CD) wrestles the bag open [CRINKLE CRACKLE RUSTLE]
  • 1:50 CD opens bag and plunges entire fist into the opening to seize a chip [ROOT ROOT CRINKLE CRINKLE]
  • 1:51 - 2:10 CD jams chip after chip into his mouth [CHEW CHEW SMACK ROOT RUSTLE CRINKLE]
  • 2:11 Is he done? [SILENCE]
  • 2:12 - 2:13 CD upends bag into his mouth to dislodge the crumbs at the bottom [TAPTAPTAP SMACK SHAKE RUSTLE]
  • 2:14 CD disposes of bag, noisily [CRUMPLE CRUMPLE CRINKLE]
Lord, by now I need a tranquilizer, but the hell that is CubeLand has just begun.

Return to Cubicles
This is a Shutterstock photo of a really annoying and nosy CD (caption dedicated to my blogger friend Birdie!)
Okay, seriously, WTF is that guy doing peeping over the wall of my cube? Oh, yeah. There's ZERO privacy here. Want to have a private phone conversation or talk shit about someone in the office? Good luck, because about 12 people will hear every word you're saying (best to just blog about it so your complaints can be read over and over, as well as shared with coworkers who weren't in earshot).

"Were you just talking about me, Ms. CrankyPants?"

In addition to chewing noises, there are many, MANY other irritating sounds that emanate from the cubes. How about these gems to make your day just that much more annoying?

  • Clipping nails (yes, really)
  • Receiving text alerts (cute tones OR vibrating)
  • Cracking knuckles
  • Scratching
  • Sighing
  • Yawning
  • Breathing loudly
  • Sniffling (repeatedly)
  • Clearing throat (repeatedly)
  • Chomping on gum 
  • Scraping out the verylastbit of yogurt from a container
  • Listening to music (YES, I can hear the tinny noises escaping from your headphones)
  • Shifting constantly in a squeaky office chair (for the love of GOD, please get some WD40)
  • Snickering at a hilarious cat video on YouTube*

*Have you seen the one where the cats play patty cake? It really is funny and I'd snicker right now if I were watching it.

**I just watched it. I kept the volume low but still loud enough so the fellow in the neighboring cube probably could hear it. And I couldn't help it, I snickered. But I will not clip my nails. Promise.

Monday, April 7, 2014

I Am Not Dead (YET)

Colossally lazy, yes. Dead, no. Not yet, anyway. Although I HAVE been feeling a pain in my left calf that *might* be a blood clot that will eventually travel to my brain and explode. For now, though, I live and breathe. Here's why I've been neglecting the blog and not visiting any of yours:

  1. Colossally lazy (covered this already)
  2. Days may be numbered (see: blood clot, above)
  3. Two fellow editors at my workplace selfishly decided to have babies, leaving me with all of the work. So, SO thoughtless of them
  4. MS/cancer/blood clot (or all three)-related fatigue

Those of you with MS who are on a disease-modifying drug (DMD) like Copaxone (which is what I'm on) may be familiar with the following phenomenon: you switch insurance annnnnnnnnnd, suddenly, getting your DMD becomes more difficult than that time a monkey was sent into space (or was it a dog?). I mean, really. My insurance has changed recently for lots of boring reasons, but as has happened Every.Single.Time there's a change of insurance, the new company is taking for-f*cking-ever to get me my meds. I've been completely out of Copaxone for almost two weeks now.

Wee Squeaky says I'm getting punished for adopting that damn third cat.
I've called my neurologist's office. I've called the insurance company. I've called Shared Solutions, which is a resource for people on Copaxone. The Shared Solutions people have helped on several occasions as as I've waded through the dozens of calls required to get my meds after a change of insurance. But the combined power of Shared Solutions and me is not enough. The insurance company drags its heels and insists on authorizations and --oops!-- preauthorizations and calls to specialty pharmacies, which need prescriptions, but wait, they're still waiting on the authorization (or was it the preauthorization?), and they haven't heard from the neurologist, so please call to have him fax the prescription to this number -- no, not THAT number, which we gave you two days ago, but THIS one -- and call us back but of course, sure, we'll call you when we've gotten it; oh, who did you talk to last time? Sorry, I don't see any notes in your file, let me put you on hold for 45 minutes....

It's truly one of the more frustrating, infuriating, and exhausting processes I've been through. And it happens without fail. Why, WHY is it so hard to get the meds we are told we need? I know some people eschew DMDs altogether, but I'm not willing to go that route yet, even though I kind of am by default now. One of the nurses at Shared Solutions said my MS symptoms could flare up during this no-drug period, but so far I haven't had a relapse. I've been feeling the fatigue more than usual. Is it coincidence? Is it because I'm temporarily off the meds? Is it that freaking blood clot? I don't know. Do insurance companies make this so hard because it really IS as challenging as putting a monkey (or dog) into space? Or is it because these drugs are so expensive? In a moment of desperation, I asked someone last week about getting a small supply of injections to tide me over. To get 30 injections -- the smallest dose they could parcel out -- I'd have to pony up $5,000 out of pocket. Ummmm, yeah, hang on while I write that check.

So, I wait. And call. And get put on hold. And get told there is another hoop to jump through. And all I can do, as far as I can see, is call back and then call again and wait and wait some more and hope someone will hurry the hell up.