A Paperless Office

Natalie photocopied. She also filed. She was good at filing. She almost enjoyed filing. She liked the feeling of power that ordering the chaos of loose papers afforded her. The first tier of the filing system was alphabetical. The second tier was colour coded - yellow, red, blue. A small, barely felt, pang of anxiety would rise in Natalie’s chest if the blue was in front of the red or the yellow was behind the blue. Arranging the files in the correct order gave her a feeling of superiority. ‘Lucky she was here,’ she would think sardonically, ‘god knows what would have happened if I hadn’t been there.

…Brown’

She smiled to herself. ‘Brown or maroon… perhaps even burgundy’ She paused briefly ‘no. definitely brown.’ Had she not been there, the yellow, red and blue of the filing system would smudge together in a muddled mess of a brown blob. ‘God forbid.’ ‘Though,’ Natalie reasoned ‘the brown blob might be more interesting than the current grey colour scheme of the office’.

“Sorry”

Gary. In his crisply starched and ironed light blue shirt and perfect Windsor knotted tie, Gary interrupted Natalie’s train of thought as he shuffled through the printed papers on the outray of the printer. The photocopier was a printer too. All in one. Printer. Photocopier. Scanner.

Natalie noticed Gary’s tie. Teal. It was the kind of teal that was teal. There was no confusing it. It was teal. Gary’s ties were mostly plain colours and rarely did they break the mold with a pattern.

“Got it” he said.

“Cool” she said.

Gary made his way back to his desk.

Today, Natalie was photocopying. Scanning actually. But she was using the photocopier to scan.

A paperless office.

She was hired to implement a paperless office. She wasn’t creating plans or structures or systems, she was the one who was doing - 'implementing'. She was scanning. Every. Single. Piece of paper. In the entire company. With approximately 90 tenant files per building and 9 buildings – this temporary job could go on forever.

She watched the florescent green light move from one end of the glass to the other. She chipped at her uneven and roughly applied navy blue nail polish. She noticed the passive aggressive sign on the wall that read: Can everyone please press the yellow clear all button before leaving the photocopier.

The please was in bold. Like it was an effort. And as if bolding the please, and heightening the politeness of the command in a demanding and rather aggressive way, made people more likely to follow. Natalie wondered who the author of the sign was. She imagined a highly strung, bird-like creature who would peak the eyes out of small animals if it made them adhere to the administrative strictures of the office. She scoped the office and tried to guess who responsible.

Was it Geoff? A stately man, organized and gentlemanly. Geoff disliked stress or high energy as it was tiresome. 'It was unlikely that Geoff wrote the note' Natalie thought.

Maureen? An overweight woman who’s joy of life was complaining and whose kids seemed to bring her much joy. She ate lamintons from the café downstairs with gluttonous delight. As she pushed the dark brown square of soft sponge through her plump and woobly lips, her nostrils would flare, sending the chocolate stained desiccated coconut sprinkling onto her desk.

Melinda asked curtly if Natalie had seen her print job. Natalie was pulled out of her thoughts and could only manage a shrug. Once orientated back at the real world of photocopier she asked, “what was it?”

Melinda didn’t answer. She just groaned.

“Why didn’t it print?” Melinda demanded.

She wasn’t asking Natalie – she was asking the computer. Her spiked, glossy, scarlet red stilettos jabbed at the carpet as she took swift, determined strides towards her desk.

Natalie pressed the big green start button and sent the fluorescent green lamp from one side to the other.

Melinda was back.

“Has it come though?”

Natalie didn’t know. Nor did she care. She picked up her now completed scanning job, pressed the yellow ‘clear-all’ button and moved away. Melinda was frustrated now. And she let out a primal , guttural noise as she clenched her hands into claws – her long red fingernails making the pose look animalistic and brutal.

Natalie positioned herself at the work station so she could watch the quiet and incredibly smart red headed IT support guy help the pantha-esque Melinda.

“It just won’t print” Natalie heard Melinda spit.
“Do you want to show me what you did?” Brain asked, timidly.
“I didn't do anything. I just do what I always do and hit file…”

While the scene was unfolding, Natalie looked down at her wrist and noticed the purplely, smudge that peaked from underneath her grey cardigan.

“So if you go into preferences”
“Where? Where’s preferences?”
“Do you mind if I drive?”

A venue stamp. They were hard to scrub off, even the morning after. Besides, Natalie didn’t like to get rid of them. They reminded her of her life outside of filing, scanning, paperless offices, blue, red, yellow, brown, grey.

“So you just need to change the Page Setup from US letter to A4”
“Why? I print, like, all the time and it has never not done it, you know what I mean?”

A flash of a beer soaked memory – the crisp amber of the ale passed out in a round of drinks; the mahogany hue of the sticky carpet in the darkened band room; the blue and green lights from the stage reflected off the face of the person yelling a half heard conversation; the black and tan leopard-print as her face was pressed against an the neck of an unexpected friend and the sound of muffled squeals of joy.

“Thanks Brian”

Natalie was wrenched once more back from her thoughts and into the office and the grey surrounds. The print job had worked. But somehow Melinda never sounded relived or sincere or grateful or…

Natalie wondered if Melinda had ever squealed with joy about anything.

Melinda was standing by the photocopier/printer/scanner. Her high-waisted black skirt pulled taught across her boxerised abdominal area and neatly packaged bum as she leaned to watch her successful print job spit out onto the outray.

'It wasn’t Melinda who wrote the sign – she wouldn’t have time' Natalie surmised. 'And she would probably tell you. Directly. That. She. Didn’t have time.'

Natalie took Melinda’s place at the photocopier. Melinda, with her blood-red shiny stilettos, placed her well-earned print out on the stack of papers to be filed.

A paperless office – but only eventually.

Natalie looked around the office. Bored, lifeless, grey. The florescent green light moved from end to the other.

She finished scanning the file and walked away from the photocopier.

She didn’t press the yellow clear all button.

Resignation

*ring ring… ring ring*
“McKenzie’s”
“Ah… Hi… is this Judy?”
“Yes it is.”
“Hi Judy, it’s Miranda”
“Hi Miranda”
“Judy, I’m not coming into work today”
“Oh. Ok. No that’s fine.”
“And I’m not coming in tomorrow.”
“Oh…”
“Actually, I’m not coming in ever again so you can stick you’re fucking dumb ass, boring grey soul wrenching, heart strangling, ego deflating, creatively void, grey paper pushing, grey, unnecessarily stressful, morally bankrupt, morale damping, enthusiasm killing grey filing and admin job goodbye and get a new fucking colour scheme!”
*click*
*dial tone*
--------------------------------------------------------
*ring ring… ring ring*
“McKenzie’s”
“Ah… Hi… is, this Judy?”
“Yes it is.”
“Hi Judy, it’s Miranda”
“Hi Miranda. Not well, again?”
“No, actually I’m perfectly well, couldn’t feel better to be honest. I’m just calling to let you know that McKenzie’s can go get fucked and if I never see any of you cunts again, it won’t be too soon…
…except for George, and Gen, and Lucy, and Miriam, Samira, Paula, Bernie and Alex of course not Alex, Caroline’s definitely not a cunt… Alicia… well… hmm… oh and not Andy either but the rest of the company…”
*Click*
“Hello? Helllo? Damn it”
---------------------------------------------------------

*ring ring… ring ring*
“McKenzie’s”
“Judy.”
“Yes?”
“Judy. Miranda.”
“Hi Miranda”
“Hi. Do you remember me?”
“What do you mean? Of course I remember you. You work here…”
“I was in there yesterday and you wouldn’t wait on me.”
“Miranda what are you talking about?”
“You work on commission right?”
“What? Are you quoting Pretty Woman?”
“Big mistake. Big. Huge. I have to go shopping now”
"This is rather awkward"
*click*
*Dial tone*
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
*ring ring… ring ring*
“McKenzie’s”
“Ah… Hi… is, this Judy?”
“Yes it is.”
“Hi Judy, it’s Miranda”
“Miranda, Hi, how did job interview go?”
“Um, good… I got the job”
“Oh that’s fantastic. That’s such good news. Congratulations”
“Thanks, um… but I start today”
“What? Today?”
“Mmmm… yeah I’m really sorry I just really need to take this job and get my career started”
“Yeah I understand – look it’s disappointing that you can’t give us the two weeks but you need to do what you need to do. So goodluck with everything and I wish you all the best.”
“Thanks Judy”
“Bye now Miranda.”
“Ah see ya Judy and thanks again”
“Not a problem, all the best”

Hidden Pleasures

Kate would unpack the fruit delivery every Tuesday. She would take her time stacking the fruit on the platter. She wanted it to look good for her own satisfaction rather than anyone else's. She couldn't help but steal a strawberry. They were ruby red and irresistible. Not once, did anyone from the office catch her.

A Dear John Letter...

It was Cynthia’s job to refill the water jugs in the meeting rooms. It was a daily task and like many of her duties it became mundane quickly. She was taking Eve’s Office Assistant position while Eve went to Scotland for her second cousins’ wedding. There had been jokes about men in kilts with the other staff on the day she’d left. Cynthia made a point of not joining in, she’d heard the jokes before and they bored her. During her orientation day, Cynthia had been instructed by Eve to fill the jugs with the water from the dark blue nozzle of the Neverfail Water Cooler. This nozzle was for the chilled water. The white nozzle, which dispensed room-temperature water was not to be used because 'it's just a thing they like’. This became Cynthia’s silent and sardonic mantra every time she filled the jugs with water.

On the odd occasion Cynthia would cheat and fill the water jugs up with the bottled water in the fridge – that way she didn’t have to walk through the office to fill the jugs she could stay in the kitchen and avoid her colleagues whom she’d found little in common with. But when she’d do this, she was always left with a dissatisfied guilt from the plastic bottles she’d wasted and a feeling that at her core she was really just lazy. She worried about this more than she worried about the environment and this worried her further.

Eve had left two weeks earlier and Cynthia had been filling up the water jugs on time every day, right after she swapped the old newspapers with the new day’s newspaper. Every time she filled the jugs, she found the resemblance the jugs held to puffed up pigeons trying to keep warm, gently amusing. They were round and grey with plastic black beaks and a particular disgruntled look about them. The observation was pleasurable every time as she imagined the jugs coming to life and cooing at her. She would look out across the grey, quiet, open plan office, with the hope of sharing the moment with a workmate. But she was a temp and she didn’t really have workmates, she had other people in the office who needed their letters typed and their spreadsheets formatted. The memory of the awkwardness that had lingered between her and Eve after she made a pun about her 'phoney' professional telephone voice was enough to convince Cynthia not to share her thoughts about the jugs.

Dear John,

Cynthia would write the words in her mind and she saw the letters appear in the imagined email as the hiccup glugging noise of the cooler created the soundscape...

I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye in person. It was a big day the day I left and there were many cobwebs to clear out of the back corners of my desk and inbox before I left – And yes, I dodged the bats.

Cynthia smiled to herself as she carried the cooing pigeon-like jugs through the grey and quiet office…

I should have said goodbye.

Entering the first meeting room, Cynthia found relief in the solitude as she replaced the first jug.

My new job is not very interesting, but it’s ok. I wanted to write and tell you that part of duties here is to replenish the water jugs in the meetings rooms. These water jugs look like puffed-up pigeons and had I still been at the desk across from your office, I would have wasted your time (as if that was unusual) with a coy 'coo coo' noise at your door and then proceed with a short puppet dance through your window with the water jugs, just to highlight how pigeon-esque they look... But I’m not there any more and instead I just fill up the jugs and replace them to their rightful position in the meeting rooms.

Cynthia entered the darkened, still meeting room 2. A black leather covered table with matching chairs dominated the room. She replaced the water jug and stared out the enormous window at the crawling trains below.

This is all I wanted to tell you. I hope you’re well.

Love,
Cynthia

Cynthia looked down and listened to the distant tapping of keyboard keys coming from the office. She knew she would never write the letter. She left the meeting room and closed the door behind her.