This morning the office is a disaster. Boxes of perfume obstruct walkways; chairs face away from desks; files are sprawled open in a very ungainly fashion; open cupboard doors reveal unorganised office supplies; dirty coffee mugs and scraps of paper cover every surface. A three-quarter bottle of rosy, pink wine covered in oily finger marks is oddly alluring among pizza boxes and jellybeans.
It’s hard to understand how we’ve gone from running like a well-oiled machine to a mechanical calamity within a week. I could think of about a million things and a couple of people to blame, but what would be the point?
I love coming to the office. I love catching up with colleagues and hearing about office politics and shooting the bull with Abigail. I even love it when it’s a fiasco, like today. It’s frustrating that I can’t shoulder some of the responsibility to give the people I love a breather, but it’s nice to know that my presence here makes a difference.
While Sparrow puts out fires in a meeting with Medios’ biggest client, I will unpack the dishwasher. While he tries to convince another client that a cut in the marketing budget is likely to result in a further reduction in profit, I will clear the dirty coffee mugs. While Abigail drives to the other side of town, I will refill the coffee pod holder, put water in the kettle and put the bottle of wine in the fridge. While she tries to correct a design error, I will organise a desk for the new intern. When we have a meeting later today, the two of them will come back to a pleasant office. This won’t make a difference to our current circumstances – it might even be a little silly – but it’s all I can think of to make things a little more bearable. That’s something, right?