I spend forty hours of my week trapped inside a bright, yet uncomfortable office. The chairs have long passed their replacement date, The desks have wear marks where the arms of my predecessors sat, and it often smells of old leftovers. The air conditioning only lives in extremes, either blasting the room with frigid air, or leaving us dying in the heat. Conversations rarely run normally. Either we spend a few short moments talking about the weather or someone gives a quick and outspoken review of this weeks office gossip. If you held us at gunpoint and forced us to give up information about each other I’m sure that only a handful of us would make it out alive. Maybe this isn’t strange, and this is just typical office behavior. But I find the lack of personal connection to be nothing short of disturbing. When did we give up on our humanity and settle for a robotic version of ourselves?
Ryan Arrington 