This Office Won’t Allow Me To Have A Lie Down Desk, So I Might Just Quit

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I’m admittedly new to post-grad life. It’s been a slow, uneventful, is-this-it kind of adjustment. I shouldn’t complain, because even though I work 9 to 6 and sit under fluorescent lights, my job is pretty lax. I basically expand on Facebook-style rants for a living. But still, between an easily disrupted creative flow and the world’s shittiest Keurig coffee pods, a job is still a job. I have plenty of things to bitch about, and the fact that this office denies me the right to a lie-down desk is definitely one of them.

What is a lie-down desk, you might ask? It’s something I made up, along with chocolate silverware, and the 28th Amendment (the right to kick my brother’s girlfriend off Netflix when I’m trying to binge Planet Earth). It’s basically like a standing desk, or a sitting desk, except you’re lying down. Think a really productive army crawl, or the way you lie on your couch while attempting to watch Shark Tank and Facebook stalk acquaintances at the same time. It would allow me to lie down, while getting my work done at a slow, yet manageable pace.

This idea was not accepted well, as I’m sure you’ll be surprised to hear. People were all, “That’s a dumb idea, Lucy” and “How would that even work” and “Why did we hire you again?” Like I need their judgment, when Dave is sporting a standing desk like some kind of wildly unpopular DJ spinning the hottest tracks of ‘98.

I’m not trying to talk shit on Dave, but excuse me while I talk shit on Dave. Dude’s a maniac. I can say this, because he’s not technically my boss. Every time I pass his office I have to look the other way, because if I’m looking in his general direction, we’re at a pretty decent eye level. He’s like a geographically undesirable receptionist who got confused and set up shop a good fifty feet from the front door. Not to be confused with Aimee, our advertising operations manager, whose cubicle standup desk makes her look so much like an office coordinator that the Jimmy John’s people always beeline for her when making a delivery.

I’m not sure how this trend started, but may I just ask, what the fuck is wrong with the people in this office? Sitting down is the only highlight of my day. Sure, it’s also the reason I have crippling back pain, but that’s nothing the exercise ball I brought to work and have been using as a footrest for the past week can’t fix. Why is it that they’re free to stand all day like cattle, but the second I ask for the ability to lie down on the job, people are questioning my sobriety and insisting I be put through a “performance review,” whatever the hell that is.

I maintain that as long as there are people who opt to stand throughout the day, I should be given the right to pop a squat right here on the floor and get comfy. Honestly, it’s the principle of it all that bugs me the most. It was my understanding the 25 square feet located inside this cubicle were mine, and mine alone. Isn’t it un-American for the big fancy office people to tell me what to do with it? It’s honestly offensive, and it leads me to wonder, what’s next? Are my superiors going to start demanding I be present on Fridays and reprimanding me for taking two-hour lunches? It’s like North Korea up in this bitch.

At the end of the day, my alternative options are pretty slim. I could search high and low for a profession that incorporates lying down into daily routine, which proves difficult when you’re not willing to wade into the waters of prostitution. Or I could quit working altogether, and spend my days lying down inside of a box under the freeway. Post-grad life, man. Too many problems, not nearly enough legal solutions. 

Image via Shutterstock

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