I work in an office building made of glass. Windows floor to ceiling, lobby to roof, natural light floods the workspace–for those who work above ground, naturally.
It’s the perfect setting for an atrium of ficus and silver queen, palm and black olive trees.
Now, lest your imagination run wild, let me clarify–an atrium designed in the 1960’s. That’s when it began, and that’s where it’s remained–something akin to a time capsule. As a matter of fact, when I first walked into the lobby a wave of deja vu hit me. Come to find out, my mom used to take me to that office when I was little, to have lunch with an uncle.
Nothing much has changed in the decades since. Including the music.
The lobby playlist includes hit tunes from the 60s and70s. Sure, every once in awhile they’ll throw in Pink, just to throw everyone off; but for the most part, it’s a whole lot of disco and rock n’ roll.
It’s sort of awesome.
I wish I could take you with me, to experience the phenomenon for yourself; alas, this will have to do–you need only imagine you’re surrounded by austere men in suits, standing ever so intently for the elevator doors to open.
Oh, and should you get to dancin’ and singin,’ and otherwise movin’ to the groovin,’ these men (and women) shall not be amused. Don’t even smile. Because it’s very serious business waiting for those elevators. Just so you know . . .