The Last Commute

(In this strange  new world)

Hours before the government did its latest u-turn in a long series of u-turns, telling people to work from home wherever possible, I was doing what turned out to be the contrarian thing.  Commuting to the office for possibly the last time until well into the new year.  I had things to collect and a desk to clear.  When some semblance of the old normal returns, probably when reliable vaccines are available, I will no longer have a desk I call my home.  I will be a hot-desker, probably going into the office once or twice a week at most.

I chose to go early, leaving the house at 05:45 for a tram on the airport line shortly after 06:00.  Prior to lockdown, my commute was something of a toxic affair and I’ve long suspected I’ve already had a dose of you-know-what.  The airport line goes by several schools, a large hospital, a major Amazon fulfilment centre and culminates at Britain’s third largest international airport.  The outbound trip of this this particular commute was a pleasure by comparison, with everyone wearing a mask, keeping distance and respecting space.  

On the walk from the tram to the office, a single, solitary plane came into land.  Emirates, I think. Not one of their A380s I’ve been used to seeing, but a 777.  I don’t know when I’ll be flying again.

I arrived at the office soon after sunrise and found myself the only person there.   There were very few cars in the business park throughout the morning.  Far from heeding the government’s advice to return to the office, most companies here appear to be operating a skeleton staff.  In the world of the office, there’s surprisingly little that cannot be done from home.

So, I set up a USB charging point, started charging a few things that I’d left in my desk and started clearing things away.  My life with the business started with a single cardboard welcome box, over twenty years ago.  What I intended to keep quickly went into the same box and a lot more went onto a pile on another desk.  My assumption is my trash may well be someone else’s treasure.  

Throughout the morning, five other members of staff turned up for the same purpose: desk clearing.  It was good to see other (socially distanced) human faces again.  There are people here I haven’t talked to in months.  People I don’t directly work with but would happily gossip with, in the kitchen, in another age. 

As my archeological dig of my workspace continued, I encountered relics of a past life.  I found my old super clip, the best thing ever from back when we used paper.

And the relics of past business trips.  I don’t know when I will be visiting a customer again, if ever.  I miss my customers.  The customer facing projects we’ve done this year have all been successful; once we are able to travel again, I expect business travel to be rare.  

When I parted ways with my colleagues, I wished them all a merry Christmas.  I don’t think I’ll be seeing any of them before then unless on a Teams or Zoom.  The infection rates are going up day after day so restrictions will, if anything, be tightened rather than relaxed.

The tram journey home?  Not so good.  We had multiple people not wearing masks,  one man slightly narked because he couldn’t sit next to me (the tram had plenty of spare seats for him to both sit down and keep his distance.  When the inspectors got on, multiple people hurriedly put a mask on, while one passenger claimed exemption.  Given the hour I was travelling, I guessed some of my fellow passengers were lacking a job (and perhaps the mental capacity to hold one down).

© Jason Hindle

The photos?  All taken with a Google Pixel 3a XL.