“What a day again,” she sighed as she got stuck at one of the annoyingly frequent red lights in the South Bay. “I can’t be late again!” She usually barely made it to the morning meetings that started mercilessly and perfectly on time in the trendy offices with beautiful plants, a beer bar on the top floor, bright-colored bean bags, and great espresso machines. The traffic in the Bay Area is particularly heavy in the mornings. Employees of Google, Facebook, and Co. commute in long, packed lines, always predictably at the same time of the week.
“People just can’t drive in California!
They commute at the speed of a snail”, she went into a tirade in her head. “They can’t use their blinkers and let’s not even mention parking backward! And heaven forbid if it rains a few drops, traffic comes to a virtual standstill,” she kept ranting to herself, while nervously staring at either the red light or the digital clock on her dashboard.
Where she grew up after fleeing her home country, the driving instructor made her practice in multi-level parking garages with narrow ramps. He let her drive 80 mph in a rainstorm on the highway to teach her how to manage hydroplaning. On several drives to the countryside, he practiced night driving with her to satisfy all license requirements - but mostly to be able to rest his hands casually on her thighs in the dark. She became an excellent driver - very quickly. There was no way she would spend more time alone with the instructor! The green light stopped her train of thought - now she needed all her attention for the road if she wanted to make it on time.
Finally, at her destination, she raced downwards through the multi-level office parking garage with squealing tires, focusing all her manifesting powers on an open spot. Her mood brightened as she noticed a parking space next to the elevators, two stories below street level. “P2 is not that bad, it could be way worse!” she determined. “It takes ages to catch the elevator from P4!” The parking sign read "Compact Car Only". She was never fond of restrictions and decided that her Mercedes SUV qualifies as a compact vehicle. After all, she could fit it in the narrow spot if she folded in the mirrors! Parking done, car locked, and within less than a minute, her heels clacked on the concrete as she ran to the elevators in her elegant dark blue business suit - a rare choice of clothing in casual Silicon Valley.
In one hand, she juggled the last sips of the now lukewarm, homemade almond latte in the reusable Starbucks cup. With the other, she scrambled for her badge while squeezing herself into the packed elevator with her colleagues, who clearly did not have a 9 am! “Otherwise, why on earth would they hold the elevator door for even more people to get on, further delaying the ride from the parking garage to the office floors?!”, she thought annoyed. Patience just wasn’t her strong suit.
She got out on the 5th floor, trying to recall the meeting room’s name and location. “Was it "Lemon" or "Winter" on the 5th or maybe "Ladybug" on the 6th floor? Who can remember such random meeting room names, anyway? Oh, shoot, only one more minute left,” she panicked. The line in front of the coffee machine wasn’t long, but too long with only one minute to go. But the self-service snack bar with the huge dispensers was a viable option to get some brain food quickly! She hastily portioned out a little bit of organic trail mix with small, colored M&Ms into her hand, ignoring the neat little cups offered for this purpose, and slipped through the meeting room door, just before the Chief of Staff. She made it on time! The room was "Mango" on the 5th. She promised herself to remember it next Wednesday.
The meeting was quick and eventless that day. Now she could finally relax, and after gathering her purse and laptop, she walked to her desk on the same floor, greeting her colleagues on the way. She liked her management consulting gig there. Her coworkers were kind, the open office was spacious, light-flooded with huge glass windows, and had exposed gray concrete ceilings. Also, the company offered a free delicious lunch on Mondays, and breakfast on Fridays. She could also choose between a Windows laptop and a Mac - a no-brainer.
She barely sat down when she noticed him as he came around the corner from the break room. He was in his sixties, wearing the janitor uniform of one of the suppliers, pushing his service cart across the floor. The cart shelves were loaded with printer paper, tissue boxes, and sanitizing wipe canisters. As usual, he stopped at the common areas and replenished the supplies – but that day, something was off. She could clearly tell by his awkward behavior that he was not comfortable. He looked around frequently as if he was hiding something. But what was he hiding in the middle of an open office with hundreds of people? The premises can only be accessed with a badge, and after passing a rigorous background check. His behavior didn’t make any sense. Curious, she got up and passed by him casually.
Then she noticed it: Hidden between the Clorox wipe canisters on the top of his cart, there was a small, open glass bottle of Coke. It was the more expensive type, produced in Mexico with cane sugar and not with corn syrup, like the ones made in the US. He must have taken it from the fridge in the office break room, which was carefully restacked every day for the company’s employees. When he felt that it was safe and nobody was looking, he took a sip or two and hid the bottle again, pretending nothing out of the ordinary happened. Her heart sank - childhood memories flooded her mind: The pain of scarcity and not fitting in, the embarrassment of only having used clothes, missing words of a foreign language, and only the cheapest food. She was only allowed half of an apple and never the whole fruit, leaving her feeling undeserving not only of food but also care, and love. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t ask for seconds when visiting friends, even now. She never cried and buried the shame deep in her heart as her classmates ridiculed and yelled at her to go back to where she came from. Even with only a few words she grasped, she understood clearly that she didn’t belong. Maybe that’s when she learned to adapt quickly and excel. In everything.
She returned to her desk, feeling numb and unable to focus on any of her three monitors. She stared at her manicured hand on the keyboard, the exquisite pearl ring with sapphires and diamond accents, and the matching bracelet. How far that little girl has come. She makes six figures and is a trusted expert in her field. Now, she can afford organic food and fine dining, she travels the world and wears designer clothes if she chooses to. She worked hard and her situation has changed so much. But her heart remembers.
Meanwhile, the janitor continued his round on the 5th floor, stopping to replace supplies and to take stealthy sips of the Coke. Nobody seemed to notice.
Later that day, on the way to her afternoon meeting on the other side of the building, she passed the almost empty break room. There he was again in his janitor uniform, but this time without his cart. He was facing the snack bar, standing very closely and purposefully covering the dispensers with his body. He didn’t see her coming. In front of him, a cup was already filled with Cheerios to the brim, and he was about to overfill another one with salted nuts as she stepped next to him. She felt his nervousness as she casually took a cup, filled it with the trail mix with the small, colored M&Ms, and smiled at him as she said: “You should really try the gummy bears - they are too good!”
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