Stoicism & Hedonism
All men are born free but everywhere are in chains
On the 35th floor all is quiet, warm, surfaces smooth lighting subtle neon hums air conditioned, fingers click on keyboards, copiers and printers faintly rattle and clatter. All is text texting Email paper printed pushed presented points made politely, targets and agendas set. At the meeting the boys slip into gear press their points home feeling smooth motivated pushing through going forward passing over any other business. Investment portfolios trading blue chip indexes excesses surpluses acquisitions credit limits substantial deposits assets stripped lucrative deals packages profitable revenue streams income credit charging equity partners high net worth individuals top earners discreet and media savvy profits taken.
The office, suspended in space, the earth curving away a thousand feet below. It is very cold, the wind vicious as you fall, reaching maximum velocity you have the sensation of floating in the early morning light the horizon deep purple shading into pink, flecks of gold touching the sky to the west. Looking up through the clouds tinted orange by the sodium lights far below (- or is it the sun coming into view as the earth turns?) into the deep blue infinity the stars of the Milky Way glitter.
The Office. I am going to the office dear, I work in an office, everyone works in an office. The office the orifice the interior up yours. Inside the boys are giving it large, taunting flaunting it making it happen. Erecting their egos above the abyss. Monumental erections built of spondoolics shafting into the sky. The squillionnaires, the masters of the universe stacking it up pushing the envelope, creating spectacular monuments to banality. The glib and oleaginous righteous, ripe with greed their pots full stretched out in limos squeaky clean leather and bling. They soak it up knock it back pour it all away. Their fat arses squeezed in pinned to screens they click on it stick it in press return then flag it up with sweaty hands sycophantic blagging full of dread making sure their duplicitousness doesn’t leak,
Office chatter inanities spilling beans last nights antics groping, finger lickin burgers pay rise pending. They stall procrastinate forever failing falling down flights of fancy up in lifts neon lit potted plants. They tweak it and twist it and make it happen hoping to make it out of the box emailing blackmailing, getting positive feedback. All the nitting and picking and poking where does it get you? Up in the morning into the tube tracking time mourning the loss slamming the door in your face facing the end. The denouement’s no drama, the pay-off less than expected so what’s the point of no return.