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Re-entry — The Unexpected Table
My first time back in the office for 17 months — from workplace to alien environment, being stalked by an unseen predator…
I looked down at the table that shouldn’t have beeen there. Just inside the revolving doors, a cheap, circular table, the wood-grain formica jarring with the carefully-styled furniture of the rest of the lobby. At just below waist-height, the primary function of this intruder was also uncomfortable. Under a cardboard sign there was a ring-binder, in landscape orientation, containing paper ‘sign-in’ sheets, and beside it, two plastic plant pots, both filled with lidless Bic pens, leaning against the sides like battle-weary soldiers waiting to go over the top. One pot was green, the other red. The instructions told me to choose a pen from the green pot, and after use, deposit it in the red pot. Was this what some people call hygiene theatre?
I picked a pen from the green pot. It had that sticky yet slimy feel that instantly repels that we have all got used to over the past year 18 months — hand cleanser gel. My mask fogged my glasses as I bent over to fill in the required details. The form asked for my name, department, line manager and entry time. This last one posed an unexpected problem. I hadn’t worn a watch in over a year, and the thought of putting one on had never entered my mind. It took me a little while to realise I’d have to consult…
