as an engineer at a Silicon Valley software startup. Yes, it sounds as geeky as it is; though, after growing up in a house with parents who are both Silicon Valley veterans and getting my bachelors and masters in engineering, it’s business as usual for me. Anyway, one of the perks at my company is a free cafeteria--that looks trendy, like a hip restaurant. Starting my day, I head directly there. Performing my morning ritual I say “hi” to Mario, who mans the breakfast counter, grab a plain Greek yogurt with granola, then fill my water bottle up with herbal iced tea. All the men I know view free food as a godsend, though I don’t want to gain the “Google 15.” It’s not that the guys don’t put on the weight; it’s that they don’t seem to care and then again there’s that old double standard, fifteen extra pounds on a guy and they still can get laid.
Getting in early is great since most of the people on my team pull in at around ten or eleven, giving me three to four hours of privacy. My company has this crazy idea that an open environment facilitates communication and team building. This idea had to be dreamed up by some executive with a big office, and a door that closes. The floor I work on is broken up into large areas that house about twenty engineers in an open environment. A wall of conference rooms—rooms with copiers and cold drink dispensers, or offices where the managers sit, separate each section. In truth, an open office is really distracting, since I overhear and see everything that’s going on. Having people look over my shoulder when I work is disconcerting.
By 10:00 a.m., the office is starting to fill up. Passing by Ian on the way back from my morning stretch my leg break, I shiver, and not in a good way. Ian is a mathematician that works on my team. He’s viewed by the other guys as some kind of genius. He’s also about sixty pounds overweight, and is pasty white with lots of thick red hair all over his body. I know this because he always wears a white wife beater and running shorts. Every day. To work. I’m hoping with winter coming, he puts on more clothes since he’s the physical equivalent of too much information. Trying to avoid looking and thinking about Ian causes a smile to cross my face. I flashback to Abs Guy. Now, spending my day looking at Abs Guy wearing a wife beater doesn’t sound half bad. This thought makes me excited and internally I gasp. Oh, god, stay focused, Juliette. I remind myself that’s not what successful engineers think about. My mom raised me to be serious, a leader, not some giddy girl who wastes her time daydreaming about scantily clad men. Damn, it’s much more fun thinking about beautiful men.
My mind is jarred back to reality as I walk to my chair when, Buddy, a fellow engineer’s German Shepherd, comes bounding up sticking her nose in my crotch. Shit, can she tell what I’ve been thinking about? Pushing her head out from between my legs, I try not to look too embarrassed. It’s not like I don’t like dogs. I grew up with dogs. I really like them, but Buddy and her crotch sniffing drives me crazy.
Then there’s Tom, who I have labeled Creepy Tom since he’s always staring at me. He’s a big guy with a goatee who must be more than ten years older than me. Plus, he’s married with a couple of kids. My goal is to avoid Creepy Tom. It’s disconcerting to have him in the same work area. Last week while I was getting a bottle of juice out of the drink dispenser, he came up real close behind me…and I think he sniffed my hair. Next place I work, I’m going to make sure they have cube walls that go up to the ceiling. I don’t want to see these guys; I don’t want them looking at me.
Now that the office is filling up, I put earbuds in. My phone is tuned to my favorite Pandora channel; it allows me to focus back on the simulation I’m working on.
I work in an engineering group that uses algorithms to develop analytical tools for making sense of big data. That is all kinds of organizations are saving petabytes of information on what people are doing on the web, Unfortunately,