Stand up for Yourself: A Review on Using a Standing Desk at Work

Although I’ve moved down to the great American south from my beloved but pricey, way-too-congested home state of New York, I’ve been fortunate enough to stay with the company I work for from home. Back in my company’s New York office, my work station was set-up like this:

Office_Cubicle

The typical office worker’s world.

It was your typical office cubical environment: two monitors, a phone, calendars and schedules tacked to the walls, and a chair to be sat in for about eight hours every work day. I’m closing in on working for this company for three years, and though I’m content with my job, sitting in that chair 40 hours a week was not comfortable.

I’m big on staying active both physically and mentally, but I had to suck it up once entering my first “real” full-time job if I wanted to earn those dollar bills and just make it by the seat of my pants each month, in my basement apartment. I’m not exaggerating when I say that my back (mainly the lower side), shoulders, hips, and neck would hurt and feel tense just about every day, and sometimes my feet and legs would go numb from sitting so long. And I’m not the only one: a few of my co-workers have reported the same. Desperate for some physical comfort, a few of us even bought back supporters that latched onto the backs of our chairs to help us sit correctly. They barely helped. Read More

Things I Hate About My Commute

On average, it takes me about an hour to get to work, and the ride home usually stretches out to be about 15 minutes longer. During my rather frustrating or overly boring drives to and from my job, I’ve noticed a few small things that never really bothered me before have now become overly annoying. These unenjoyable occurrences include:

The red lights on the ramps before entering highways—“One Vehicle Per Green,” states the sign in big bold letters below the light that can’t seem to decide if it likes being green or red. I passionately hate these stupid lights. Personally, I don’t see the point in stopping at a red light for a second and a half just a few feet before entering a highway rushing with stressed out, competitive maniacs on five different pills, soaring at least 70 MPH and angrily jerking their steering wheels to fly their dented SUVs with ugly stick figure families on the back windows into the next lane because the guy in front of them is only going 68 MPH as he looks down at his iPhone 5. Read More