One's place of work. Especially refers to large concrete office buildings filled with drab colored cubicles. These crimes against humanity typically have five or more floors, no opening windows, and a clearly excessive level of security in light of the work being done inside said buildings.
Steve:"Hey Bob, you want to go bowling tonight?"
Bob:"Aw, I'd love to but I've got to finish these damn TPS forms. I'll probably be here at the soul crusher for another two hours at least. I'm so sick of this stupid job. Can you believe they made me chair of the committee for defining issue workgroups? The advisory panel doesn't even have task charts done for all of the workgroups yet! And when am I supposed to find the time to document my entry of issues into the performance archives?! What a crock."
Steve:"...You know there's a recession going on, right? There are so many people out there right now that would kill for your job."
Bob:"Yeah... you're right... Sorry, I've been a little on edge lately. Screw the TPS forms, I'll be at the alley in 15 minutes."
Steve:"All right, that's better! See you there!"