Bracelet Obituary

A seasoned member of Cube 19 died of natural causes today.

The right-hand stress bracelet ran out of juice and removed itself from me.

The Q-Ray was 13 months old.

The first year of Cube 19 was a difficult one. I suffered deep depression and stress. During the work hours the work screws severally hampered my off-field activities due to low energy and a beaten spirit.

Despite the full year in the work force, I hadn’t adequately adjusted between corporate and pleasure life. Cube 19 tormented me at home. Throughout the first employment year I averaged about five hours sleep due to high stress.

No one in the office knew about me slipping into this well. Everyday I made sure to mask a bleak attitude. However these emotions erupted at 5:30 p.m. and infected everyone outside of the office.

After college I moved into a house with two other guys who were in their 30s. It was a tough adjustment to hang with these guys because everyone had construed interests. In the glory days I’d return from class, grab a case a beer and head over to a pal’s house to watch that night’s sports lineup. Instead at this place the television was regulated for other uses and my dish, laundry and bathroom habits were groomed to the landlord’s preference.

Meanwhile at work the noose tightened. The first few weeks the man stopped by the cube to exclusively ask about the personal inbound sales accomplishments. A mumbled lie habitually escaped me to his displeasure. Then I raced out to the car to buy me 20 minutes of solitude.

My doctor told me I suffered from high stress. (Well, duh!) I joined a gym, shoved away the work and bought the supposed bracelet healer. When I encountered problems, the bracelet would handle it.

Together the bracelet and I endure comedy sizzles. Yes, the bracelet was actually to reduce stress. Yes, I’m proud enough to wear it. No, I’m not sure if it works. No, I don’t think it is gay. No, I’m not gay.

A shakeup to the after-hours routine included a workout, a steam room and two showers. Vanilla candle aroma spread itself through my wing of the house after dinner. At least once a month I vacationed outside the state to allow additional recovery time.

Now I’ve matured a little. The work intensity is no longer a problem. I live by myself and keep my sanity with uncensored television hours.

The bracelet is not needed. The bracelet is dead.

Note to readers: The author is on bereavement leave. He is mourning the loss of the cheap jewelry in a tropical climate for ten days.