  I sit in a cubicle that is ten feet wide by eight feet deep. That's really big for one person. The problem is, I'm not alone in here anymore.
There's my new friend, I'll call him "C" to protect his identity. I have a feeling he is one of those guys who will go all out to make things work for this place.
His life is 80% job, 20% home. I pity him, I do. But it is not my place here to push people away from the corporation, just annoy them by questioning stupid things they do. Like dress codes and logins for internet use and hour lunches and managers-for-managers-for-managers. It's my place to say, "Why do I get dressed up to work here everyday? I sit hidden from the world...who cares if I wear dress shoes? The lengths people go through to control other people. Anyway, so now I'm stuffed in a cubicle with a guy I don't know, and I certainly don't and won't understand his world, and we crash our chairs together everytime one of us stands up to leave.
We'll see how long this lasts. They won't listen to me, I'm a borrowed grunt. But "C" is one of them, he'll be heard. If this place wants a war...they're messing with the wrong man. 
