Copy points

So I'm well into my third week at work and the picture is becoming a little clearer to me, as to the kind of machine that presently employs me as a cog. Here are some observations:

1. Company XYZ (I don't want to be dooced) is a respectable yet slightly old-fashioned advertising company with strong ties to two giants of the pharmaceutical world.
2. As witnessed by the visual above, they take the occasional stab at hipness, on the company intranet...which, more often than not, fools precisely no one.
3. While my job is to write copy and my experience, thusfar, has centred around how to make boring facts interesting and alluring, this is not how my job is perceived here. Here, the job is to produce accurate, medical copy that doctors will understand and believe. To that end, I have suggested, half-jokingly, that we use a font that replicates horrible hand-writing. No one got it.
4. A fair amount of administrative work and data analysis is a part of my job: organizing work flow, attending work traffic meetings and poring over medical studies commisioned by shadowy corporations, all aimed at proving that drug A could indeed, on it's day, reduce the incidence of disease B, by 11% in a statistical sample of questionable significance and dubious integrity.
5. All my work goes toward selling physicians on our drugs. We never talk to consumers (another agency does that).
6. I have the most appalling work conditions; ok, not quite 3rd world sweatshop but nothing glamorous either. I share an open-plan workspace with two other writers (one is an ex-frat boy posessing an unhealthy obsession toward sports and his torso, and the other is a quiet, deliberate writer with serial-killer shiftiness; doubtless, either-or both-have blogs that describe how they share work space with a shifty, lanky-yet-fat Arabic fella who usually smells like tobacco) and the temperature is cold enough to store meat in, for up to six months.
7. I am learning a lot about medical terminology and asthma.
8. My bosses are nice but not very assertive. As a result, I'm not sure if they're waiting for me to ask for work or waiting for work to come in, so they can give it to me. Either way, they don't interact much. I've done the smart thing and let them know when I'm not busy but so far, it doesn't seem to have made a difference.
9. I'm pretty sure that this is going to be my last advertising job in New York. That is, if I don't get fired or laid off or something. The spark has gone and I firmly belief that what's missing from my life is a challenge: new job, new country and a fresh discipline to sink my pearly whites into. Advertising is fun and I'm not utterly incompetent at it..but I need more and thusfar, I don't know what more entails.
10. On a personal note and because you all love to hear about this stuff, I've lost my sex drive (I mean, it is AWOL), I'm going through alzheimer-like absent-mindedness (bought lunch today, paid for it and left it in the shop...came back 5 minutes later to pick it up) and I can feel the depression sinking it's claws into me. It won't be long now before I'm mired in it.
11. There are TWO Egyptians here, beside me. What are the odds? The guy seems very nice, born and raised in Brooklyn, to Egyptian-born parents. The girl, on the other hand, is half-Dominican and half Egyptian. She is both a little odd and highly flaky. Now, I'm not one to hunt for my own and seek to travel as part of an 'Egyptian posse', but she's been distinctly dismissive of even casual pleasantries, since our common heritage was revealed, despite initial excitement on her part. I managed to gather that her father (who was Egyptian) is no longer in the picture and I'm beginning to suspect a natural mistrust of Egyptian men. Then again, perhaps she has a point.
12. The bathrooms are clean, but not well-kept: the flow of water sucks and the flush won't be winning any disposal awards, anytime soon. Sorry for the Forsooth-like tangent, but it had to be said.
13. We have a ping pong table on the premises! We also have a tournament which I will not be participating in. I can play the game but I'm a little too competitive so I won't be subjecting my co-workers to my bad sportsmanship. One part of the email that announced the tourney had the following excerpt, which made me chuckle, especially the part about skill level:

Please specify the following:
Name:
Singles, Doubles, or Both:
Doubles partner:
Skill Level: 1, 2, or 3

1 = I likes pong ping! High five!
2 = I am going to kick a$$, but I end up losing half of the time.
3 = Don’t call it ping pong, or I will hit you in the eye with my own personalized nike ball and wilson paddle.

14. Christmas party (sorry, Holiday party) is coming up. It's a black-tie affair and I'm allowed to bring a date. I am inclined to do a Borat and bring a hooker with me.
15. Did I mention that my company just opened a branch in London? This might be a sign from the Flying Spaghetti Monster (a Richard Dawkins joke) like receiving two copies of the book "How to Leave America" from Amazon, when I only paid for one. Time will tell.