Which is no different from other typical workplaces in this country.
In a gray and tall building, lots of windows lie on each other where one looks exactly the same as the one in front and behind it, making them hard to count from outside. You have got a security card to get in. Yes, the same old play-hard-to-get trick. Somehow it’s just never getting old.
After passing a mostly male dominant, middle-aged line of people in black and grey, and some security guards who are typically in blue shirts and black pants which light things up a bit, or not, you go straight to an elevator hall which is where I’d like to call “a hall of doors”. You never can expect which door will open and which elevator will come to pick you up until you hear a “tink!” sound right behind your back, and then a blinking little light above your head. All seem normal, and in order, and the same everywhere, which is good.
Then you step into a steel box with lots of buttons. Don’t panic when choosing which one to press. Act cool. Or else people will realize that you’re new here, which is not good. Newcomers often are “welcomed” in a quite distinctive manner here that sometimes you’d wish that there are no beginnings, and no ends, of anything to make life easier.
Another joyful “tink!” and you find yourself in a somewhat greyer and less shiny hall-of-doors that is contradicting with the sound earlier. You come out the door, try to look and sound deliberately like everyone else. No hesitate, people hate that amateur look. So your head goes up, or down whatever, but choose your way left or right decisively and step forward quickly to your designated door.
Another door. Another security gateway. Another level to raise, or low, your self-esteem intentionally.
You touch your card. A normal “beep” sound welcomes you in. Good. Normal is good. People here only prefer normal things. Don’t try to make any fuss or any unexpected moves. Just do it normally here. You don’t want to bother anybody and neither do them.
The door is opened and in front of you are countless lines of grey-ish tables. Each one has a laptop or a PC and a heap of paper on it. A black chair with rotatable legs sits right in front of the table. And the whole room is lit up by a very blurred light comes from the ceiling, because the windows are too far away and too tiny for the room for any sunshine to break in here.
You then again quickly locate your place and walk in a, guess what, grey carpet heading to it.
Nodding, “Shhhhh!” sounds everywhere. That’s how people here greet each other. It can be brutally translated as “Okay I know it’s you. Now shut up and let me be alone.” Sit up straight in your chair. Put your bag in a drawer right below your table. Then hang your jacket in a closet at a corner if it’s wintertime. Go to the bathroom even if you don’t have any urgent need. Look at yourself in the mirror. All suit up in black and white and grey. Okay, everything seems normal. Now come back to your desk and start a day.
Working. Typing. Nodding.
Meeting in grey rooms with heavy light-grey metal doors and metal tables also in the same shade of colors. Sometimes with blue chairs. And a whiteboard with some tidy makers that somebody is thoughtful enough to line up them exactly in the middle of a tray down below and next to a wiper. Also sitting at the corner is a TV and a projector, which are rarely used but when you do, try to go in and do some checking an hour before because people here don’t like unprepared and unthoughtful bastards who don’t automatically know what are their jobs and where are their places.
Typing. Chatting. Nodding. Bowing. Ringing sounds of phones somewhere. Then a melody to tell you that it’s lunchtime. For one hour. Rushing to line up in the nearest restaurant. Checking menu. Ordering. Waiting. Shoot! 30 mins passed. Waiting again. Eating in hurry. Security door. Security door. And back to work you go.
Typing. Clicking. Nodding. Copying. Meeting.
Another melody. Is that time to go home? Not yet! Look up to the head of your line. Has the big boss left yet? No? Then sit still.
Go to a convenience store nearby. Buy some snacks. Linger at “refresh corner” just to buy a canned coffee and smell cigarettes in the air and look out the window. Ah, the window. It’s already dark outside. Maybe it’s okay to leave now.
Tidying up. Bowing. Bowing. Bowing. Security door. Security door. Bowing again. What’s left to do today? Maybe finding a seat on your already crowded trains. If it’s too hopeless then just stand. Holding to your bag between your legs because there’s no other space. And let yourself be blank. And grey. And the same. And normal. Normal is good.
Tomorrow will be different, I hope. But no “bad” different! “Normal” different is good enough…