Alas, after a while my window experienced a fate similar to most toys. No longer new, I barely gave it a glance. It therefore languished on the wall forgotten. Except for one day of the week. Friday.
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T
hey say New York is the city that never sleeps. Maybe that’s because there are so many windowless offices lurking behind those gleaming — and sometimes crumbling — Manhattan facades.
In that fluorescent-lit inner world of cubicles and fabricated walls, the light never changes. It could be a cloudy autumn morning or a moonlit summer night and you’d never know, because there’s only one setting: false bright. Although you could be sure the company’s top brass isn’t burrowing in one of those windowless, monotonous, artificially lit holes.
That was one of the reasons why I looked upon my new job as a window of opportunity, literally. Not only did I get a better title — Director of Marketing — but my office had a window! A big one, too. To be honest, the view wasn’t much, just another aging office building across the way. But at last, I had a window of my own.
For the first month or so I treated my window like a new toy. While on the telephone talking to printers, I’d glance outside. Wow! Raindrops! (Or maybe just drips from the window air-conditioning unit on the floor above.) When taking a break from writing copy for a newsletter, I’d stand up and look through my window to the street below. Gee, look at all the people! (Hey, it’s not lunchtime. Where’s everybody going?) It was a fascinating experience to be at work and yet still connected to the outside world.
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