I work in a sales department at a plant that produces soft drinks. My working day begins at 9 a.m.
At 9 a.m. I must put my admission card to a special sensor at the clock-house to witness my appearance in the workplace. It is easy to check up punctuality of the employees. A few minutes and I am in the office. I pass through a long empty corridor where all the doors are closed. On the walls there are pictures depicting giant fruits. I enter the room, briefly say hello to my colleagues and sit down to my workplace.
I switch my computer on. While it is being loaded, I move a frame on a wall calendar to the following date. As usual I count the days left until the week-end. I open my mail-box and delete unnecessary letters. Then I make some daily reports. I boil water in a teapot, drink a cup of tea.
Dinner time comes. The employees have the advantage of eating in a good canteen. A dinner is an outstanding event in the office life. If you manage to occupy a seat by the window it is possible to find out what the weather is today.
After the dinner I do a couple of phone calls, some Excel tables, and drink one more cup of tea. Once in a while someone drops in to chat with me for a couple of minutes. But not every day.
At 6 p.m. I stand up, put on a coat, say “good-bye” to those who stays at the office. Passing by a reception, I say ritually to a secretary girl: “How come you’re still here? It’s time to go home!”
Next morning I have to wake up at 7 o’clock. There will be a new day. A truly new one?