Am I Nutso For Believing Offices Should Provide And Require Their Cube Monkeys To Wear Headphones?

As the story goes, a few months ago my beloved headphones shit themselves. I approached Office Manager Brett about the situation and kindly asked for him to get me a replacement pair. Brett then proceeded to telegraph Amazon and to order 40 fidget spinners, a service-ferret, and a flight from JFK to Laguardia with an 18-hour layover in Newark, so I went to our resident finance guy Matt who approves all office transactions to ask if I can get them myself. Finance Matt promptly informed me that headphones are not considered office expenses. I was internally flabbergasted. I didn’t argue, because what kind of cheap animal would throw go nuts on the spot over $10? Dave Portnoy when he used to cut his own hair. Nobody. That’s who.

But something didn’t feel right. Headphones in a communal workplace should be as assumed as a paycheck or the daily noogying of the office’s weakest link. I decided to take a quiet stand. A Mike Portnoy approach to stubbornness, if you will. My headphones were hurt, not injured. They were still able to play the game at 50% better than any sort of iPhone earbuds could at 100%. So we started a silent protest against the powers that be.

And that’s when things went off the rails. Trent said it’s not a worthy battle worth fighting. KFC started threw earbuds at me like he was throwing loose change at a bum. Riggsy whipped out a “Smitty, this is by far your most outrageously stupid argument…and that’s saying something.” All fair reactions. But now I have no choice to say FUCK all of that. We’re living in a society here, people. In this office alone we’ve already got people yapping away nonstop, Francis reading his own Tweets aloud at will, and Nate squeaking when his scent picks up a fresh female in the elevator. Enough is enough. I intended this to be a quiet revolution. Not anymore. If this is the hill I die on, so be it. Just make sure to bury me in these broken headphones, my Jerome Brown jersey, and upside down so the critics can kiss my ass. You see what happens when people are able to blast whatever they want in the office? You guessed it. Pure, unadulterated CHAOS.

OK. Maybe not initially. But now that Pandora’s Box of Bruce has been opened, all bets are off. Somebody’s gotta make a stand. First they came for the headphones, and most did nothing. Pretty soon our God-given work right to chairs, Internet, and the unlimited amount of deliciously sponsored Natty-Light stacked behind the behind the bar will be at risk. This isn’t about me, this is about Freedom.