The Dreams That Were Dreamt

Chapter Fifteen: Agreements

When I stood in the back alley of a street that almost didn't matter, I was certain that I had been given the wrong address. There was a flower shop in one corner of the street and a garage in the other. Why an office space was placed here was beyond me. But the GPS on my phone told me I was in the right place. It was a beautiful day in the intersection of winter and spring. The sun was shining and no clouds could be seen. It was one of those days where anticipation and optimism of brighter times were at the core of every conversation. Little did we know that in the upcoming week, the snow that didn't show up christmas would make a late appearance. And everyone would curse it.

I sent Elena a text saying I had arrived and she responded immediately that she would come and open the door for me. I had only had a brief conversation with her in the afternoon after I had met Owen. I knew nothing of her apart from that she seemed to be one of those people that always was the first one on the ball. She was quick to arrange a meeting. Too quick for me to be able to object. Was I interested in the job? A little. I was curious, for sure. It was a ship that made a stop. One I might as well board. It was a strange one. One told about in ghost stories; the phantom ship that, once in a blue moon, arrived at the docks. From what Owen had told me the job felt too strange to not investigate. The curiosity was ever so present even in this moment, as I stood in front of the gate in green steel that opened through the blip of a tag. On the other side stood Elena who greeted me with a kind, but contrived smile.

''Hello Aaron, very nice to meet you,'' the woman with an accent exclaimed and extended me her hand. Her grip was as forced as the corners of her mouth. She was wearing a black suit with matching pants and a white shirt. Her black bangs covered her eyebrows which made it difficult telling what expression she emoted. I reassured her that the pleasure was all mine, even though it wasn't. A headache had been looming over me the entire day and the weight of performing appropriate social behaviour was another burden placed on top of the other.

''Follow me,'' she said, and I did. We walked through a narrow gravel passage squeezed in-between the buildings. Around the corner we stumbled down a couple steps and got to a glass door. With another blip of a tag the doors opened and the increase of temperature on the other side of the door was welcomed with open arms. I took the space in and was impressed how a gem like this could have been hidden in an alley that didn't matter. It wasn't that the place was out of the ordinary. It just didn't quite make sense here. Everything was so bright. I understood it as a typical start-up office space. The lobby was a big open floor plan room with white walls. There were plants in every corner and on every surface. All the furniture were the vintage type with an expensive price tag. There were dining tables, couches, bean bags and an air hockey table that could be smelled even before Elena had opened the door. 

I was surprised that there wasn't a slide. The opposite end of the lobby led you to a small courtyard through glass sliding doors. I imagined that the companies residing here were eagerly awaiting for when the season allowed the outdoor space to be used for events. They had a huge kitchen with a kitchen island, of course. There were expensive coffee machines, fridges filled with drinks from brands I had never seen before and about a dozen microwaves. The people on and about in the space looked content. I don't know why they wouldn't be. They had everything. They were talking, laughing, lounging and playing with dogs that were there for some reason. The working attire was both formal and casual. I couldn't help to feel as if the atmosphere was dependent on a certain type of performativity in order for work to feel like being amongst friends. There was a list of feelings that were appropriate and allowed here. None of them were real. Behind the scenes they would complain that they didn't want to see the cleaning lady clean.

''This is a no shoes office,'' she informed me with the closing of the door. Of course it was. To my left was a row of pristine white shelves that had pairs of shoes neatly stacked on them. How they managed to keep the shelves that immaculate and spotless was something that, yet again, was beyond me. I took off my shoes and placed them on the floor. Upon removing them I noticed how I was wearing an odd pair of socks. Stupid. The thought of removing the socks as well struck me but I wasn't sure if that would have scored me any points either. Not getting this job, I guess.