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08.30.05
• PLUG!!!!
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| 11.04.01
The True Meaning Of Happiness
by Samir
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Everyday, during my lunch hour, I go down to the atrium at work to eat with two other interns. If we stick around till 1:05, instead of leaving at 1:00 like we're supposed to, we usually get treated to a daily visual that, to this day, still makes me laugh.
Like clockwork, two fat, balding engineers come down to the coke machine in the atrium. Officiously, the fatter of the two declares the rules of engagement: "Heads, you pay. Tails, I pay." His voice thunders throughout the atrium, and it has become his own coliseum. Probably already familiar with the rules, the 2nd nods. Perhaps it is homage to the tradition that these two daily foes have spawned.
The coin goes up, and is caught unfailingly. Cold and unbias, like a methodical, unfeeling mercenary assassin, the coin does its work. The two men become transfixed, following it unblinking. Some days, I have to turn away because the suspense is too great. 4th and Goal in the 4th quarter with your team down by 5, that's nowhere as close to the last two inches of the descent of the coin.
As it lands, the coin delivers fate's non-negotiable judgment. In a transient flash, the excitement is over. On most days, it turns out the fatter one loses (perhaps fate knows he has less need for the extra sugar than his "svelte" friend).
The loser pays, and the two take a few precious moments to enjoy their soft drinks. The call of the rat race is all too ubiquitous. As the match and the post-game ceremonies draw to a close, these two epic warriors shake hands, friends once again. They waddle back to their lives, clawing their way to the middle of the company totem pole, in the hell that white-collar workers call "Cubeville."
What amazes me about these two fellows is the regularity with which they do this. Every day, between 1 and 1:05, the match-up transpires. Having survived many lay-offs, downsizings and my personal favorite, "re-structurings", this routine has stood the test of time better than the company itself.
These two fellows, obviously no strangers to the endless, unrewarding, arduous, stressful and insecure toil in obscurity of their bureaucratic jobs, have carved a small, sanctimonious haven in the 10 square feet in front of the coke machine in the atrium. Unlike the work environment, the family, foreign relations and the Dow Industrial Average, the haven never changes. It itself, by being so stable, represents a change from the "everyday".
It is here where these two men imbibe not from coke cans, but from the very fountain of happiness. Because they know, unlike Ponce De Leon, that mythical fountains exist not where one finds them, but where one creates them. A man does not drink from mythical fountains, but his soul does.
So when the boss comes in and says he needs cost calculations that he can take credit for at this afternoon's Vice-Presidents' meeting (which the engineer will not attend), or when Insert Microsoft Product here crashes just as all the calculations are complete (but not saved), for these two engineers, there will always be that 5 minutes where they stop being drones and start being gladiators… or whatever they fancy themselves.
Those, my friend, are 5 minutes of happiness most people will never taste. |
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