Reed emails:
Section Leader Reed
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To:
Hugh *******
Cc:
***** ******, ******, ***********
09 May 2013 11:12
Hi Hugh,
Sorry about the swearing.
Can you pop down to Adjustment Ops and try and be social in a way that implies get the f**k on with it?
Best
Reed
do with this… I stand up.
My back creeks and my legs are stiff, I’ve been here for twelve hours now and I feel pretty good considering. As soon as I move away from my desk my brain reasserts itself into a slightly more sequential mode of functioning. Statistical analysis requires a broader spectrum in your cognitive approach. When I become congruent I struggle if I’m being honest (which should not be encouraged).
I could describe the office but I don’t really see the point. Approximately 75 to 100 people work on this floor at any one time although as I understand it there is space for up to 150. A cubicle is about 3 meters by 5. The lights are halogen strip. There are full length windows to the far right although the blinds are usually drawn. The atmosphere is not oppressive, the people are normal and healthy as far as I understand it. Some of the people on this floor even play squash together but that doesn’t mean I have to go does it? I’ve never created a model for the wants of social niceties although what one would achieve with such data is debatable.
Adjustment ops is in the basement. Ops stands for operations for those who don’t know. I’m being sarcastic I know that you know. Think of them like the media department, it’s uncomfortable to consider them in any other way.
I’m in the lift. I’m thinking about the trailer for this film that I watched at my desk maybe two or three days before. It detailed the unstable life of a young white woman. living in America although parts of the scenery appeared to be Paris. They didn’t appear to be, they were Paris. I could see that they were Paris. It seemed that she was having trouble making her life fit together and whilst extremely attractive was unable to make her relationships with men work. I felt that the overall tone of the film was supposed to be uplifting, and that ultimately women like this were to be celebrated as a mark of true individuality in white western capitalist culture. To me the overtones of the film seemed to be a discourse about depression. I suspected that the film would never engage directly with this in terms of explicit referencing of the mental health condition, to engage with the idea directly would be deemed to controversial by the films financial backers, perhaps they would cite examples such as Madonna’s ‘Who’s That Girl?’ as an example of the sort of thing they were looking for in discussions with the director. I had no intention of seeing this film, I have spent too much time analysing media from the middle east and find films about depressed white people to be mildly ridiculous. They are always framed in these flurries of activity and awkward yet entertaining social situations. It resembles no experience of depression that I have ever come in to contact with although I am forcing the reading of depression onto it. The idea that individuality should be encouraged and celebrated is laughable to me. Perhaps I’ve been working here to long, perhaps not.
PING
That’s the sound of the lift if you’re not clear on that. It may well be unclear if that sound came from the reality of the situation or the interior monologue of my thoughts on current independent cinema whilst in the lift. I need to get to Media Ops regardless.
Media Ops is in the basement, they have glass panels separating their booths and some of the operators have even moved partitions out of the way to share working space. This kind of thing would never be tolerated in U Section but then I suppose the ‘creative’ members of the team must be allowed their little idiosyncrasies. The floor is dark and wide and the desks near the lift are only content interpreters and checkers mostly. I stop at ones desk who I do not recognize, he is wearing a Public Enemy t-shirt.
“I need to see Potenkin.” I say. The op looks up at me like I’ve said something ridiculous but doesn’t quite stretch to rolling his eyes. U section still carries a little bit of weight down here but not much.
“You’re U section Hugh, just go straight in.” He says. He knows me, I feel vaguely confused by this. I walk away.
Potenkin’s office is at the other end of the open plan, he leaves his door open anyway so I just walk in. He’s standing in front of a supersized flat panel monitor, which takes up most of the wall facing his desk. He has a poster of the Ridley Scott 1984 ad on the opposite wall.
“Is that suppose to be funny?” I say. He turns to and sees me.
“Oh for f***s sake.” Is his less than salubrious response.
