Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

Abstract

ger an intern, I’m ready to take on the corporate world and experience “real life”.I glance at the cupboard that holds the company mugs — they’re communal and for all to use. But I no longer need to use shared mugs. I’ve got my own, and it’s just as shiny as I am.It’ll be a race to see who loses its shine first — me or my mug.<h1 id="82d3">The “I’m Not Just a Corporate Number” Mug</h1>I find myself attached to a penguin mug.The mug itself is shaped like a pudgy penguin and it’s everything the corporate mugs are not — colorful, whimsical, fun. It’s Christmas-themed which is apt for our cold northern winters. The penguin’s red scarf matches my own and the green toque — pronounced “too-k”, which is Canadian for a beanie — is actually the lid to this mug.I settle into my desk, waiting for the earl grey to cool to an acceptable drinking temperature. As I wait for my computer to boot up, I reflect on my recent abandonment of corporate coffee mugs.I’ve hit the rebellious teenage years of my working life and realize using corporate branded swag just isn’t cool anymore. This moment is symbolic and pivotal — that moment in a coming of age story where childhood naivety begins to crack.<h1 id="d154">The “I’m Dying a Slow Death’” Mug</h1>I watch the English breakfast teabag sink slowly into my steaming mug of hot water. A trail of color seeps out from it. Is that its life force seeping away? Am I projecting too much of my own feelings?I don’t use corporate mugs or happy, Christmas-themed penguin mugs anymore. I’ve taken to practica

Options

lity and I see nothing more practical than a Contigo travel mug — dual walled with a leak-proof lid, what more could one ask for?It’s the epitome of coffee mug functionality. And it’s also soulless. Which is exactly the kind of mug I’m going for.Turns out corporate life isn’t all I’d hoped it would be. Too simple-minded for office politics and too impatient with incompetent bosses, I hang in corporate limbo and question the unfairness of career progressions. No one ever said life was fair.<h1 id="ec49">The “I’m a Survivor” Mug</h1>After tossing my Contigo mug through the dishwater too many times, it’s now peeling and a sight for sore eyes. But it works and is still functional, though battered and bruised. It’s a mirror image of my soul.I must have missed the memo when I happily hopped, jumped, and skipped my way into corporate life. Where was my heads up about the revolving door company “reorganizations”? When did we start using “reorg” as a euphemism for 40% reductions in the workforce?I’ve said goodbye to too many friends and glared quietly at too many fools.Part of me — the part that cares about bills and mortgages — sends a prayer of thanks to my corporate guardian angel. The other half of me is too tired to care.They say things will be better once we get through it — whatever this “it” is. The company will be in a better place and we’ll have some consistency. Like a ghostly abandoned Ferris Wheel, these empty promises bring nothing but more restructuring and more staff reductions, year after year.</article></body>

To All the Mugs I’ve Loved — A Chronicle of My Working Life

Because a mug can say the things I can’t bring myself to say

The “I Made It” Mug

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I beam quietly as I reach into the office’s cupboard and pick out a mug with the corporate logo on it.

I hold it with pride. So simple in design, bearing only the two colors of the company logo, it symbolizes decades of work coming to fruition.

Study hard so you get good grades. Get good grades so you get a good education. Get a good education so you get a good job. This mantra has been pounded into me; like the good little Asian kid I am, I lived and breathed it.

Hello, good job, it’s nice to meet you. This is my first day here. I’m only an intern now, but I hope this will become a long-term relationship.

The “I Made It For Real” Mug

I drop a fresh green tea bag into my mug. As I’m filling it with hot water, the corporate logo catches my eye.

Still fresh-faced and full of naive optimism, I smile and silently pat myself on the back for “making it” — for real this time. No longer an intern, I’m ready to take on the corporate world and experience “real life”.

I glance at the cupboard that holds the company mugs — they’re communal and for all to use. But I no longer need to use shared mugs. I’ve got my own, and it’s just as shiny as I am.

It’ll be a race to see who loses its shine first — me or my mug.

The “I’m Not Just a Corporate Number” Mug

I find myself attached to a penguin mug.

The mug itself is shaped like a pudgy penguin and it’s everything the corporate mugs are not — colorful, whimsical, fun. It’s Christmas-themed which is apt for our cold northern winters. The penguin’s red scarf matches my own and the green toque — pronounced “too-k”, which is Canadian for a beanie — is actually the lid to this mug.

I settle into my desk, waiting for the earl grey to cool to an acceptable drinking temperature. As I wait for my computer to boot up, I reflect on my recent abandonment of corporate coffee mugs.

I’ve hit the rebellious teenage years of my working life and realize using corporate branded swag just isn’t cool anymore. This moment is symbolic and pivotal — that moment in a coming of age story where childhood naivety begins to crack.

The “I’m Dying a Slow Death’” Mug

I watch the English breakfast teabag sink slowly into my steaming mug of hot water. A trail of color seeps out from it. Is that its life force seeping away? Am I projecting too much of my own feelings?

I don’t use corporate mugs or happy, Christmas-themed penguin mugs anymore. I’ve taken to practicality and I see nothing more practical than a Contigo travel mug — dual walled with a leak-proof lid, what more could one ask for?

It’s the epitome of coffee mug functionality. And it’s also soulless. Which is exactly the kind of mug I’m going for.

Turns out corporate life isn’t all I’d hoped it would be. Too simple-minded for office politics and too impatient with incompetent bosses, I hang in corporate limbo and question the unfairness of career progressions. No one ever said life was fair.

The “I’m a Survivor” Mug

After tossing my Contigo mug through the dishwater too many times, it’s now peeling and a sight for sore eyes. But it works and is still functional, though battered and bruised. It’s a mirror image of my soul.

I must have missed the memo when I happily hopped, jumped, and skipped my way into corporate life. Where was my heads up about the revolving door company “reorganizations”? When did we start using “reorg” as a euphemism for 40% reductions in the workforce?

I’ve said goodbye to too many friends and glared quietly at too many fools.

Part of me — the part that cares about bills and mortgages — sends a prayer of thanks to my corporate guardian angel. The other half of me is too tired to care.

They say things will be better once we get through it — whatever this “it” is. The company will be in a better place and we’ll have some consistency. Like a ghostly abandoned Ferris Wheel, these empty promises bring nothing but more restructuring and more staff reductions, year after year.