McClintic Goes to a Cubicle

"Oh, but let me tell you, I just love quiet at night. There's this comic I saw of this woman sitting in this wine-dark chair -- my chair is in fact the color of red wine -- and over her head is a sign that says 'coffee' and there's a cat by her feet and she's reading a book. That's exactly me at night. My husband, we have that Lehrer guy on at night, we just have it going, but it's just chatter, talk talk talk, and after a while I can't stand it. I just want quiet. My husband can't believe that I just finished a book and am started on another one. He tells me to take a break, but what am I gonna do?"

"Do you drink coffee at night?"

"Sometimes I drink coffee, or tea, although I drink an awful lot of diet lemon-lime soda. And I have to admit, I just love playing games on the computer. Bridge, solitaire, there's this game that you play with yourself, I don't remember what it's called, but it just makes the most wonderful sound, it has this wonderful sound of falling water."

"I like Pac-man."

"Now I find pac-man too fast. Those guys are so little on the computer and I can't keep up. But at the arcade that was the only game I played. At Detroit Metro Airport they used to have pac-man and I used to play while waiting for my flights. I just loved it. I love watching them run around and the sounds the game makes."

Outside, there's snow on the cars. There's work to do, data to enter, diseases to take care of, people to talk to, forms to be processed. Outside, it's cold. There's winter on the windows, gray sky-screen, green coniferous. Inside, computers hum. It's like being around family. The bright beautiful constancy. When I turn it off, it sighs sadly. It seems that, outside, everything is outrageously peaceful, and, true, I almost envy the stillness. Not really wanting to go anywhere because right here's just fine thanks because things tend to come along of their own sweet accord.