I arrived at the cubicle farm early this morning, relatively speaking. Technically speaking I would have been considered late, but because everyone else in my farm hadn’t arrived, I was early. (This explains why I’m so tired now.)

The cleaner came round the cubicles to collect the trash, and she stopped at my cubicle while I pressed the button on my Toshiba.

“You’re new here?” she asks in mandarin.

“I just moved here not too long ago,” I reply in mandarin, wondering why the dumb Toshiba hasn’t awaken.

“It’s most important to get along with your colleagues,” she advises.

I have this bad feeling that she has more pearls of wisdom to cast if I feign interest, yet I don’t want to be rude. “Yes, I get along with them.” I hit a few random keys on the keyboard. No response.

“You know, I used to work at [department A]…” she continues as I note that the status lights of the stupid Toshiba is normal. Let’s see if Ctrl+Alt+Del has any effect.

“Boy ah, you know, it’s most important to be HAPPY at work.” She says “HAPPY” in english.

“Yes, that’s right,” I affirm, hoping that it makes her happy, and perhaps she’ll leave me alone soon.

“You know, I worked at [the CEO’s office area],” she begins again, and I actually listen, hoping to catch some juicy bit of gossip about the CEO. “The people there are very nice - whenever they have meetings, they would pack some of the refreshments for me. And the refreshments are not the cheap kind - each item costs at least 50 cents! I was very HAPPY there.”

I look back at the darned Toshiba. Should I do a hardware reset?

“Then I was at [department B],” this time in a sadder tone. I notice she has black hair, even though she’s probably around 65. “The people there are no good. I wasn’t HAPPY.” Should someone on a bus or MRT give up their seat to someone who’s obviously old but tries to look young?

“I told my supervisor that I wanted to resign, because I wasn’t HAPPY.” Friggin Toshiba. I think I’ll just reset. “So they transferred me.”

Then, the Toshiba finally decides to wake up, and the cleaner, somehow sensing it, limps on to the next cubicle.

“Boy ah, it’s most important to be happy…” she mutters, probably to me.