Occupational Maneuvers in the Dark

I tend to work overtime. It's the nature of my job. Plus, we have kind of a flexible schedule at my office, and where some people chose to come in at, say, 7:00am and be able to leave at 3:30pm, I prefer coming at at 9:00am and leaving at 5:30pm. But leaving at 5:30pm doesn't often happen.

I'll often be there until after 6:00pm, as will a small handful of others. The way my building is set up, the lights automatically turn off at 6:00pm. Not the power, of course, just the main overhead florescents that cover the whole ceiling there on the second floor. Outside, in the hall, is a dial on the wall, a timer switch for the lights. If this lights go off and you want them back on, you just go out there, twist the dial a bit, and light returns.

Now, me? I kind of like it when the lights go out. There's that initial shock (though it happens every day, I never remember that it's coming, since I'm usually deep into what I'm rushing to finish and don't really watch the time too closely), and suddenly, you're kind of sitting there in the dark. I say kind of because during the summer months (which we're mostly still in), it's still light outside, so it's not pitch black or anything. Plus, you've still got the light from both of your monitors (we use two in my line o' work) to illuminate your cubicle. And it's nice. You never really realize how much ambient noise those overhead lights crank out until they switch off in a flash (or in this case, the opposite of a flash). All of a sudden, it's quiet. And it's dark, with the harsh and oppressive lighting above gone. It's really quite peaceful, and soothing, and a nice relief. It changes my whole mood, odd as that seems. I let out a breath and relax. I'm suddenly calm, and I slow my internal engine down (which I'll then realize was really revving without my having taken notice). It's a much better environment to work in. And it makes the last hour (or more) of a long work day much nicer.

Or, it would...

See, of those who work 6:00pm and beyond, there are two camps. There are those like me who welcome the lights going away. And then, there are the stompers. I call them such because scant seconds after the blackout, you can hear one of them, from the other side of the floor (they seem to all be over there), come purposely stomping down the aisle, toward me, as my cubicle is right next to the door that leads to the hall where the dial switch is. They're stomping because they're miffed, and their feet are stamping this message out on the flat, thin carpet. They don't WANT to work in the dark. They want lights. And this (always) unexpected dropout has sent their already-stressed minds into a subtle rage at the inconvenience of having to leave what they're doing and go all the way to the switch to get their precious lights back.

So the "stomper" will come storming past me (I never see who it is, because my back is to the aisle that they march down with such purpose), throw open the door, and head for the switch. The door, by the by, is an added annoyance to them, as it shuts itself and locks, and you need to pull out and use your key card to get back in. The door shuts...I wince and wait. BOOM. The florescents don't flicker back on; they all burst to life at once. For a moment it's partially blinding, and gives me an inevitable mini-migraine that lasts for two or three heartbeats. Where there was serenity and quiet, suddenly the artificial corporate sun is back, back with its alien hum that's no longer just background noise since I'm now fully aware of it. For just that small period of time between the lights-out and the stomper's revenge, my office--the one I'd just spent so many hours stressed-out and frantic in--had been transformed into a gentler, kinder place. But with the angry twist of a dial, that evening's stomper yanked us all back into the same work day we'd just managed to get a break from. Pleasant change to business as usual, just like that.

The stomper will then use their card (the beep, sadly, sounds at the door, taking away my petty hope that maybe they left their card at their desk and had been locked out for their thoughtless actions), fling the door back open, and huff their way back to their desk. You can almost feel the aura of martyrdom in their self-righteous sigh, a sound that says oh no, no need to thank me. Someone had to step up and do what had to be done for the sake of all of us still working, and this selfless stomper sacrificed their own time and effort to bring us all back into the harsh light of office life.

Now I'm not the only one on the pro-dark side. A buddy of mine sits on the other side of my cubicle, and I know his feelings on this as well. When the darkness falls, I know we both sit motionless and wait, wait to see if the silence will remain, and we'll get our welcome reprieve, or if the footfalls of one of the light-huggers will start to sound. It's almost always the latter. And we both quietly mutter our displeasure at this as the stomp-stomp-stomp comes our way. We do it quietly because, really, how far gone do you really have to be, and how burned out, to actually complain about someone turning lights back on that were just on moments ago? We don't really have the high ground here, nor, obviously, the same level of emotion. Where we LIKE it when the lights are out, and think it's nice, we obviously don't feel as strongly about it as someone who thunders across the whole office in an indignant rage to bring them back. Not only would I feel very petty and silly for voicing my desires on this, but I might also want to worry about my personal safety. That stomper is obviously riding the ragged edge already. I really don't want to be the thing that pushes them over it and makes them snap. The janitors could find my body the next morning in the copy room with half a florescent tube jammed down my throat.

So, for just a handful of seconds, I know some peace at the end of my work day. And then it's snatched away, by someone who obviously had night-light issues as a child. I'm getting the idea that it's maybe a 50/50 split on the matter among those who do the overtime thing, but I may be wrong. Maybe just a couple of us appreciate and understand the need for a small oasis at the end of a long day's pilgrimage. Regardless, it seems we will ever be denied the full enjoyment, as long as there is a stomper waiting to take a stand and rage against the dying of the light. Shine on, you crazy diamonds. Shine on.