What Do Hipster Accountants And Busy Lift Wells Have In Common?
What Do Hipster Accountants And Busy Lift Wells Have In Common?
Day 120 of The Andie Chronicles
The wind tearing past my ears couldn’t compare to the downpour about to trap me between the train station and the offices at 101 Collins.
I walked to Camberwell station and departed at Parliament, the convenience of the commute I couldn’t deny.
One thing James had got right about Douglas’ business; location.
And as much as James said the chauffeured car could deliver us to work every day, I didn’t need the gas guzzler. 1 Lovelock Drive was a mere five-minute walk to the station, why did I need to rely on Douglas even more?
We were literally on his payroll. How much more did we need to owe him?
But as the rain began to pour, I envied those in their dry cars, only for the time it took to get me inside and into the glorious building’s foyer.
A sea of shoulder pads and slicked hair covered crowded the bank of lift doors. As I heard one of the lift doors open, echoing through the vast ceiling, I scuttled towards it but wasn’t quick enough.
Two more missed lifts later, I finally clambered inside one and ascended to the top floor. It was just me and one other face left when we reached Douglas’ floor.
I examined the person, a short but well-dressed man in a grey tartan suit. He looked the same age as me, perhaps older from the silver hairs sprinkled in his hipster haircut.
“Hello,” I said, once I realised he was heading to the same place as me. “I’m Andie. First day.” Oh great, I thought. I’m losing important words now.
“George. Accounting.”
I went to extend my hand, to shake his, but he didn’t falter. Instead, he remained fixed on the lift door and when they opened, he scuttled away down the opposite corridor to mine.
I calmly walked down towards my office. Everything looked different from the other day. All the empty spaces were now filled with people, furniture or tradesmen adding the finishing touches to a space.
As I made eye contact with the faces, I said good morning, smiling and nodding. My greetings were met with vacant stares. I assumed no one knew who I was. Stranger danger and all that.
It should pass, I told myself, as I finally reached James’ office.
“Morning, James,” I said, having not seen him at the house before I left. I had no idea what time he departed for the city. “Hey babe,” he responded, his face screwed up as he stared at his computer screen. “You all good?”
“Um, yeah, I think I freaked a few people out when I walked through.” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood.
“You can’t scare these people. Only Douglas can do that.”
It was not what I meant. And the more I stared at James and the less he seemed to waver from whatever he was doing, I felt like a small child, bothering a parent.
But at that moment, I needed my best friend. I needed him to remind me this was going to be ok.
And as I backed away from his office and into mine, I locked the door and slumped to the ground.
I couldn’t even take in the beautifully decorated space, magically transformed overnight. No, the panic attack had well and truly set in. The tears flooded my face. And they didn’t stop until it was time to go home.
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