6:47am
The alarm goes off. Why 6:47? Because those two extra minutes are the only act of rebellion left, and they are savoured with the intensity of someone who has nothing else.
Eyes open. Ceiling examined. The ceiling has never done anything wrong. I have a lovely ceiling. The ceiling is the only relationship in this building that isn't complicated.
7:03am
I switch on the shower. The shower is fine. The shower is, in fact, the best part of the day. Standing under hot water with no emails and no agenda and no one asking you to circle back on anything is as close to peace as the next nine hours will allow.
Considered staying in it until retirement. Concluded the water would go cold. Got out.
7:31am
Stood in front of the wardrobe for four minutes.
Selected the outfit that says "I am here" without saying "I am invested." The middle ground. The uniform of someone who has made their peace with mediocrity and is asking you to do the same.
8:14am
The commute.
Every red light is a gift. Every delayed train a small mercy. Forty minutes during which the day has not technically started yet and cannot be held against you.
8:56am
Arrived at the office four minutes early. Immediately regretted it. Now must sit at the desk for four additional minutes with nothing to show for it.
Logged in. Watched the emails load.
Forty-seven new messages since 6pm yesterday. Forty-three of them do not require a response. Three of them require a response that will take two minutes each. One of them is from Gary and requires an emotional resilience that has not yet been located.
9:02am
Replied to two emails. Both replies were variations of "Thanks for this, will review." I did not review. I will never review.
Made a to-do list. The to-do list contains eleven items. Three of them have been on the list since November. They are permanent residents now. Load-bearing items. The list wouldn't know itself without them.
9:45am
Meeting.
The meeting was scheduled for thirty minutes. It will last fifty-three. It will end without a decision. Someone will say "let's take this offline" at minute forty-one and everyone will nod with the relief of people being told the war is over.
Sat in the meeting. Contributed twice. Both contributions were questions that already had answers, asked to demonstrate engagement. Nobody noticed. Nobody ever notices.
11:20am
Returned from the meeting to find two new emails and a Teams message that says "Do you have five minutes?"
Did not reply to the Teams message immediately. Weighed the consequences of replying versus not replying. Replied with "give me ten" and then spent ten minutes doing nothing, as a matter of principle.
The five-minute conversation took twenty-two minutes and concerned something that could have been an email, which could have been nothing, which is what it will ultimately become.
12:01pm
Lunch.
Left the desk.
Ate lunch alone.
This was the goal.
This was the plan. Thirty-seven minutes of not being asked anything by anyone.
1:14pm
The afternoon.
The afternoon is the hardest part. The morning has momentum. The evening has escape. The afternoon is a corridor with no exits and the overhead lighting has been on since 1987.
Opened a document. Closed it. Opened it again. Wrote a sentence. Deleted the sentence. Wrote the sentence again.
2:30pm
Another meeting.
This one has twelve people in it. Four of them need to be here. The other eight are here because being invited to things creates the impression of relevance and nobody has been brave enough to stop inviting them.
Joined the meeting on mute. Stayed on mute. The camera is off. The camera has been "having issues" for six weeks. The issues are permanent and entirely intentional.
Someone is sharing their screen. The screen contains a spreadsheet. The spreadsheet contains numbers. The numbers mean something to someone in this call and that person will speak for eleven uninterrupted minutes about them.
3:47pm
Sent an email marked "just checking in on this" about something that doesn't matter, to create a paper trail of activity. The email is evidence. The email says: I was here. I was doing things.
Got a reply within four minutes. The reply was also about nothing. Two adults, employed by an organisation, generating correspondence about nothing, for the benefit of a system that requires the appearance of productivity.
Fine. This is fine.
4:52pm
The last hour.
The last hour is psychological. The work is notionally the same as it was at 9am but the gravitational pull of 5:30 makes it almost impossible to initiate anything new. Starting something at 4:52 would mean either finishing it badly or carrying it into tomorrow, and tomorrow is tomorrow's problem.
Updated the to-do list. Added two items. Both of them will be on the list until November.
5:31pm
Left.
At 5:31, because leaving on the dot looks pointed and the energy required to not care about that has not been available for some time.
Walked to the bus stop with the specific pace of someone who is not running but is also not wasting a single additional second.
The day is over. The day is done. Eight hours and thirty-one minutes of being present in a building, performing the shape of a person who is engaged, contributing the minimum required to avoid consequences, generating the paperwork of employment.
Tomorrow it starts again.
6:47am
The alarm goes off.
The ceiling has never let anyone down. Which is more than can be said for the rest of it.
