Come, Sweet Workday

The Long Absence

Ring, alarm. Do not hesitate just because there is still so much night left. I have had my share of rest. I have let the world run without me for six whole hours; now I must rise and make up for that long absence.

I washed, dried my hair, and picked up the clothes I had draped over the chair the day before. As I pushed my head through and stretched out both arms, the neckline pulled tight against my throat. In the mirror, the tag that should have been at the back of my neck was sticking out beneath my chin. Without a word, I slipped both arms out, lowered my head, and took the top off again. I had already dealt with one problem before even stepping outside. Today, I would be flawless.

The rush of cold air as I opened the front door brought a few tears to my eyes. I did not bother wiping them away with my sleeve. Just the right level of humidity for this perfect morning.

I got into the car and started the engine. A long line of cars already stretched along the main road. Brake lights began coming on one by one up ahead, so I moved my foot over the brake pedal too. Everyone sat in their cramped cars, staring blankly ahead. Through the rear window of the car in front, I could see someone fixing their hair. I looked in the rearview mirror and kept pressing down the bits of mine that stuck up.

The light changed. The car ahead of the car ahead moved, then the car ahead moved, and at last I moved too. No one had counted us in, yet the car behind followed in perfect time. To think they had fitted even me into this enormous procession without leaving a single gap. How could I lie at home on a morning like this?

I pressed a finger to the time clock. A firm electronic beep, and my name appeared on the screen. There. Once again, the fact that I had come to work was officially on record.

“Good morning.”

As I set down my bag and gave a hearty greeting, a colleague who had arrived before me paused while lifting a coffee cup and flicked a hand in reply. The next person in added a good morning while taking off their coat. So many people were in agreement that the morning was good.

Normal After Modem Reboot

I arrived at the site, gathered my tools, and headed straight for the equipment cabinet. I opened the cover and ran my eyes over the tangle of wires. The usual connection trouble. I pulled out the modem’s power cable, held it while I slowly counted three seconds to myself, then plugged it back in.

After a short wait, the green indicator blinked a few times, then held steady. Just like that, the connection was back.

I gave the closed cabinet door a single slap with my palm and squared my shoulders. I had come out to the site and brought a dead machine back to life. Spare me the ignorant talk of merely unplugging a power cable and plugging it back in. A great physician needs only the simplest remedies to work a miracle.

‘Normal after modem reboot.’

Written in the work details field, it did not even fill a single line. I underlined the word ‘normal’. Then I pressed harder on the pen and underlined it again.

I packed everything I had taken out neatly back into the bag and pulled the zipper all the way shut. Back in the car, I closed the door and the noise outside subsided. I opened the work log I had left on the passenger seat again. The two underlines were darker than the writing. I snapped the cap onto my pen.

One More Site

Just then, the phone rang.

“Yes.”

I answered, pulling off the pen cap I had just snapped on.

“Could you take a look at one more site?”

I wrote the address on a sheet of notepaper and underlined it once. I had not even started the engine yet, so there could be no better time to put my pen to work. When the call ended, I folded the paper in half and put it in my pocket, then pulled my seat belt across, fastened it, and started the engine.

I arrived at the next site. I got out of the car and unzipped the bag I had zipped shut. The cables I had so carefully coiled a little earlier lay alongside the tools in orderly ranks.

I uncoiled the neatly wound cable again. Had I known I would be taking it out again so soon, I would have just tossed it onto the passenger seat. But what could I do? My sublime sense of professional duty, which tolerated no disorder at any moment, sometimes wore me out like this.

This time I took out the SIM card. Holding it between my fingertips, I blew on it once. I lined it up and slid it back into place. The signal returned. I stood with my arms folded and watched for a while, but the connection was fine. Excellent.

I scribbled down what I had done and swept my things roughly into the bag. As I was about to get into the driver’s seat, I stopped and stretched out a leg; my knee cracked. I bent it again and folded myself into the car.

While I was writing up the work, I got a call from the next location. I wrote the new address beneath the line I had been writing on and jotted down the caller’s additional remarks beside it. As the call was coming to an end, the voice on the other end said my name once more.

“Yes.”

My mouth answered first. My hand was still writing down the caller’s previous words.

When the call ended, I folded the notepaper away and set off again.

I got out of the car, opened the bag, and checked the equipment. I unplugged a wire and plugged it back in, closed the cover, and got back into the car. The sunlight that had been on my right a little while ago was now slanting in through the left window. Every time I got out, I stretched out a foot to check that my shoelaces had not come undone. They were tied tight. With them like that, I could keep walking as long as I needed to.

After a few more rounds of getting out, getting in, and answering, it was already growing dark outside the car window. The notepaper I had tossed onto the passenger seat was covered with writing on both sides.

Preparations Also Normal

I stopped by the office before finishing work. I gathered at my feet the supplies I would take to tomorrow’s sites and entered the day’s work into the system. Modem reboot. SIM card reinserted. Normal operation confirmed. Out there, I had spent the day bending my knees and straightening my back, but here a single press of Enter took me to the next location.

I scanned the screen to check that nothing was missing. I unfolded the crumpled notepaper and finished typing up the notes on the back as well. I clicked Save and sank back in my chair.

Chairs scraped here and there. People slipped into their coats and shouldered their bags. Monitors went dark one by one. A colleague with a bag over their shoulder, ready to leave, gestured with their chin at the supplies by my feet.

“You’ve got everything for tomorrow ready too. Let’s go.”

“Yes. I’ll just finish sorting this out.”

My colleague nodded and left. Soon someone else left too. When the last remaining employee put a hand on the switch and asked whether to turn off the lights, I raised a hand to say it was fine, without taking my eyes off the monitor. He closed the door, leaving only the motion-sensor light above my desk on.

The hum of the refrigerator in the break room was unusually clear.

I copied tomorrow’s sites onto a fresh sheet of paper. I wrote tomorrow’s date at the top and listed the supplies I needed to take beneath it. Pointing with my finger, I matched each item on the list with the things I had set aside. Nothing was missing. I placed the paper on top of the box of supplies.

Preparations also normal.

I pushed the pen cap all the way on, the same cap I had taken off and put on so many times in the car. Tomorrow, all I would have to do was pick these things up and head out.

A Truly Flawless Day

I put on my coat and shouldered my bag. I was about to push the chair in when I stopped and took my phone out of my pocket. I meant to check the alarm. Six fifty in the morning. The alarm that had woken me this morning was set for tomorrow too.

A few more taps on the screen, and I set another alarm for six fifty-five. I gazed at the two times displayed side by side.

With my bag still on my shoulder, I perched on the empty chair again for a moment. All I had to do was get home, wash, lay out tomorrow’s shirt with its front and back the right way round, and lie down. Then I would open my eyes to six fifty all over again.

It had been a truly flawless day.

The bag strap slipped slowly off my shoulder. I pulled it back into place. The phone screen went dark, and even the hum of the refrigerator stopped. I sat there for a while.

Since the Light Was On

Just then, the light above my head clicked off.

I looked up. Through the glass door, all I could see was the glow of the exit sign in the corridor. I lifted one hand and waved it loosely in the air, and the ceiling light came back on.

Well, since it was on anyway.

I shoved my phone into my pocket and set my bag on the floor. I pushed the chair right under the desk and stood up straight. Tomorrow morning, I resolved, I would greet everyone with a little more energy than I had today. I cleared my throat.

“Good morning.”

My voice cracked a little at the end. I swallowed and squared my shoulders. I was the one who had revived a dying modem connection and put a SIM card back where it belonged. There was no reason I could not get one short greeting out properly.

“Good morning.”

This time my voice reached the partition at the far end of the office. I tried lifting the corners of my mouth just a little. Add this expression tomorrow morning, and it would be perfect.

I rolled tomorrow’s greeting around in my mouth a few more times. I tried raising the pitch at the end, then lowering it; breathing from my diaphragm to put more force into the first word, then pushing the sound out evenly to the last syllable. The face reflected in the dark glass door was smiling faintly.

Come, sweet workday.

The ceiling light went out again.

Still smiling, I threw both arms high into the air.