Generation X Read Online Free Page A

"Sick Building Syndrome," saying,
    "The windows in the office building where I worked didn't open that morning, and I was sitting in my cubicle, affectionately named the veal-I fattening pen. I was getting sicker and more headachy by the minute as the airborne stew of office toxins and viruses recirculated—around and a r o u n d —i n t h e f a n s .
    "Of course these poison winds were eddying in my area in partic-ular, a i d e d b y t h e h u m o f t h e w h i t e n o i s e m a c h i n e a n d t h e g l o w of the VDT
    screens. I wasn't getting much done and was staring at my IBM clone s u r r o u n d e d b y a s e a o f P o s t-i t N o t e s , r o c k b a n d p o s t e r s r i p p e d o f c o n s t r u c t i o n s i t e h o a r d i n g b o a r d s , a n d a s m a l l s e p i a p h o t o o f a wooden whaling ship, crushed in the Antarctic i ce, that I once found in an old N a t i o n a l G e o g r a p h i c . I had placed this photo behind a little gold frame I bought in Chinatown. I would stare at this picture constantly, never quite able to imagine the cold, lonely despair that people who are g e n u i n e l y t r a p p e d m u s t f e e l—i n t h e p r o c e s s t h i n k b e t t e r o f m y o w n plight in life.
    "Anyhow, I wasn't going to produce much, and to be honest, I had decided that morning that it was very hard to see myself doing the same job two years down the road. The thought of it was laughable; depressing.
    So I was being a bit more lax than normal in my behavior. It felt nice.
    It was pre -quitting elation. I've had it a few times now.
    "Karen and Jamie, the "VDT Vixens" who worked in the veal-

    fattening pens next to me (we called our area the junior stockyard or the junior ghetto, alternately) weren't feeling well or producing much, either. As I remember, Karen was spooked about the Sick Building
    b u s i n e s s m o r e t h a n a n y o f u s . S h e h a d h e r s i s t e r , w h o w o r k e d a s a n X-ray technician in Montreal, give her a lead apron, which she wore to protect her ovaries when she was doing her keyboarding work. She was going to quit soon to pick up work as a temp: 'More freedom that way
    —easier to date the bicycle couriers.'
    "Anyway, I remember I was working on a hamburger franchise

    campaign, the big goal of which, according to my embittered ex-hippie boss, Martin, was to 'get the little monsters so excited about eating a burger that they want to vomit with excitement.' Martin was a forty-year- old man saying this. Doubts I'd been having about my work for months VEAL-FATTENING PEN:
    were weighing on my mind.
    Small, cramped offi ce
    workstations built of fabric-
    "As luck would have it, that was the morning the public health covered disassemblable wall
    inspector came around in response to a phone call I'd made earlier that partitions and inhabited by junior
    week, questioning the quality of the working environment.
    staff members. Named after the
    small preslaughter cubicles used
    "Martin was horrified that an employee had called the inspectors, by the cattle industry.
    and I mean really freaked out. In Toronto they can force you to make architectural changes, and alterations are ferociously expensive—fresh air ducts and the like —and health of the office workers be damned, cash signs were dinging up in Martin's eyes, tens of thousands of dollars'
    worth. He called me into his office and started screaming at me, his teeny-weeny salt and pepper ponytail bobbing up and down, 'I just don't understand you young people. No workplace is ever okay enough. And
    you mope and complain about how uncreative your jobs are and how
    you're getting nowhere, and so when we finally give you a promotion you leave and go pick grapes in Queensland or some other such non-s e n s e . '
    "Now, Martin, like most embittered ex-hippies, is a yuppie, and I have no idea how you're supposed to relate to those people. And before you start getting shrill and saying yuppies don't exist, let's just