and Words
I’ve been hearin’ symphonies
Before, all I heard was silence
A rhapsody for you and me
And every melody is timeless
Life was stringin’ me along
Then you came and you cut me loose
Was solo, singin’ on my own
Now I can’t find the key without you
And now your song is on repeat
And I’m dancin’ on to your heartbeat
And when you’re gone, I feel incomplete
So if you want the truth
Lyric excerpts from Genius.com.
I started at my current company in 2020; I continued to work remotely for the better part of 2021. We proceeded with caution due to the pandemic and gradually reopened the world. This included our policy to work from home. However, we grew faster than we could logistically maintain. We suddenly had more employees than we had desks. This meant that even if I wanted to come into work in person, I couldn’t (without reserving a hotel desk). I had far better monitors at home, so I preferred to work remotely. Therefore, this didn’t impact me.
Eventually, my manager went out of her way to arrange a permanent desk for me with similar equipment. However, that permanent desk came with strings attached. Since desks were a limited resource, we were expected to come into the office two to three days per week. Honestly, I had very few complaints about working from the office. My wife commutes to Seattle four days per week and meets me in the afternoons near the office, so it worked out well.
My routine eventually settles into commuting four days per week to match my wife. My company’s offices reside in a tower attached to a retail space called Lincoln Square South. Our assigned parking was the same as the retail space.
Each workday started with driving the ramp down to the underground parking near the elevators and riding one of the cars to the second floor. As the elevator doors open on the second floor, three objects sit prominently on the right. First, a station to pay for parking sits in the very corner, though you may also pay as you exit. Second, Jerry’s shoeshine station sits next to that wall, closed until late morning; it houses a couple of elevated seats. Finally, just beyond Jerry’s shoeshine station sits a grand piano.
On the occasional late morning, I arrive after Jerry opens his shoeshine station. I chat with Jerry, who is funny and cordial. On most days, I aspire to get to my desk so that I may attend to my next task. On other days, I linger and talk to Jerry for a few more minutes. I suspect I could spend considerable time chatting with him and learning about his life experiences. It saddens me a little that I don’t own a pair of dress shoes that he may shine for me.
My office lies to the left as I exit the elevators. I traverse through an archipelago of tables through an ever-changing food court. Nordstrom Rack, the single retail store along this path, sits prominently on the left. Otherwise, the food choices include an espresso stand, bubble tea, Korean-fried chicken, and tacos served from what resembles an indoor trailer. I diligently walk past all those to a bank of elevators that run dozens of floors into the Bellevue sky. I press the number 26 on the panel outside the bank of elevators. In a few minutes, I arrive at my floor.
I boot my computers and settle at my desk. I subsequently check notifications and messages. After attending to any immediate tasks, I post a short message in a Slack channel named “12648430”, our cryptically named coffee channel. A number of us congregate in our kitchen; I pour a modest cup of cold brew coffee. We sit down at a cluster of three tables, often pulling chairs to sit around a single table while we chat. As our first meetings approach, we disperse.
As lunch approaches, I wander back down to the food court. I ordered and waited for the Korean fried chicken wings. The entire retail space played popular music. Loudly enough so that you could recognize it, but softly enough that it didn’t interfere with conversations. I collect my prized lunch and bring it back to the same tables from that morning.
I spend the afternoon programming. For me, this normally entails writing code I have already thought about and visualized. It merely doesn’t exist yet, but that’s just a detail. I spend that time pounding at the keys, furiously committing each idea and detail into the computer, desperately hoping I don’t forget something. Honestly, it’s much like writing a blog post, except that when you program, the product of your writing actually does something.
As the hours pass, I get a text from my wife. She tells me that she’s on the bus to my side of town. I respond the way that I normally do, by sending her a picture of a golden retriever puppy to acknowledge that I saw her message. This is definitely a ‘Frank-ism’. I pack up my equipment and ride the elevator back down to the second floor. I meet her down in a lounge past the elevators, as it’s near the entrance nearest to her bus stop.
I arrive at that cozy lounge to wait. A long fireplace built into the wall sits beneath large modern artwork. It’s subtly-colored and beautiful, but it’s also surprisingly non-intrusive. Comfortable chairs surround the fireplace; I found these chairs a little too comfortable. Given a long enough wait, I have fallen asleep in one of those chairs. Familiar faces surround me as I wait; they’re not workmates, but regular occupants of this space.
One woman, decades my senior, reminds me of my wife’s mom. Her name is Mary. She sits quietly as she reads her books from her tote bag. She dresses warmly and comfortably in the occasional pair of slippers. We never talk about much of consequence, but greet each other warmly nonetheless. Occasionally, I see her writing in a note or journal and observe that she has beautiful penmanship.
However, as my company outgrew its modest office space, we needed to move. We secured office space in a building a few blocks away. The new building is more modern, has more room, and is generally better. In nearly every way, our new building is better. I think about my friends from my old building who are not my workmates and didn’t move with us.
I think about Mary, who quietly sits in a comfy chair most evenings. She greets me with a warm smile as I set my messenger bag down and sit down to wait for my wife. We may exchange polite conversation for about 10-15 minutes. As I leave with my wife, Mary turns to both of us and responds with, “Have a good evening!”
On my last day in our old building, I stopped by Jerry’s Shoeshine. We exchange cordial goodbyes and a friendly handshake. I jot down his phone number and promise to reach out to him for lunch. While I have at least contacted him, I have yet to schedule that lunch. That’s on me, but he (and Mary) are persistently in my thoughts.
As Jerry and I chat on my way out, Clean Bandit’s ‘Symphony’ plays softly over the speakers. Those words to Zara Larsson’s voice will forever be associated with those friends. I miss you all.