I worked on a sky rise in a lower Manhattan corporate office for several years. I worked on the top two floors of the building, with exceptional views (that I quickly forgot about during the daily office grind).

This grind was an everyday grind for millions. I arrived at work via a subway, pounded the pavement for several blocks to arrive at a massive glass building, and entered a vast lobby with layered security measures. A Starbucks was easily accessible to employees of the building and away from the outside hustle. Once in the building, I rode the elevator packed with strangers to the 50th+ floor. Often I closed my eyes during these last few moments. I practiced mindfulness or pretended to be somewhere else because this would be the last moment before rejoining the corporate fog.

Now I work remotely from home and rarely interact with no more than a few people in person during the day. That sky-rise work environment is behind me and is a growing distance memory. When I left Manhattan, I forgot about that professional lifestyle.

Last month I had the opportunity to travel to our corporate headquarters in Manhattan. This work trip was an opportunity to meet and collaborate with colleagues in person. I arrived in Manhattan, and rather than recalling nostalgic memories from my past; I felt like I had never departed NYC. Due to covid the streets lined with many commercial store vacancies, but that smell of urine-stained pavement (mixed with ambition) immediately cued an anxiety-fulled bolt of energy back into my bloodstream (like a cocaine hit after a silent religious retreat).*

On this recent trip, I visited the corporate office and felt like I was undergoing a Pavlov test. The vast glass lobby had countless security detail, escalators, and card scans. A collection of massive screens rotating imagery and advertisements was adorning the lobby's walls. I entered an elevator with numerous strangers, all of us briefly cut off from cell phone service as we awaited our floor. I caught myself closing my eyes. Then once off the elevator, a staff-only Starbucks and more screens filled the sky rise lobby.

I people-watched when I was alone in the building's dining area (which overlooked exceptional views). I thought about the lifestyle that this city demands of citizens. I thought about the limited but highly manicured nature available during the day. I thought about the subway system and the smells of dampness, grime, and industrial lubricants. I thought about the memory of pressing through lunches because I would eat from my desk. I thought about hiding in the bathroom to make myself unavailable for staff happy hours. I thought about the number of times I would fall asleep in the shower, sometimes quickly napping on the bathroom floor fully dressed for the day hoping that a last minute illness would set in so that I could call in sick. I dreaded engaging in another day of pointless corporate gossip.

Finally, (and to land preemptively on my conclusion), I thought about how unnatural and complicated this life can be in this environment. It's almost as though we purposely chase after this artificial (and this chase is fueled by our not having control).

*Cocaine, surprisingly I don't know what this experience entails. I’m not sure how I dodged the ski slope, and I’m too old for it now. However, I do know what a religious silent retreat entails, and I don't recommend it.