Here’s how my typical workday begins.
I drive to a parking lot behind an unmarked, almost unlabeled building. It’s the sort of building people drive by all of the time, without even noticing that it’s there. It appears abandoned; all of the windows are shuttered.
The parking lot is filled with nondescript cars. None of them are painted bright colors, none are excessively sporty, but all are in good repair. None are new, and none are old. They have only the most bland and common decals and bumper stickers. None of these cars are worth a second glance. A moment after you’ve seen them, it’s hard to remember anything about them.
As I get out of the car, I often see young men wandering around the parking lot. Sometimes there is a woman or two, but usually it’s only men. I often see them, but not always. They move around the neighborhood according to some pattern that I don’t know. Sometimes they move around in groups of two or three, or sometimes there will just be one, standing in a fixed position. But they are never alone, even if they appear to be–they are always talking to someone else on the wireless headset that they always appear to be wearing.
As they walk, the men make notes on small pads, and sometimes I see them taking quick photos of the cars in the parking lot, the cars driving by, people walking by on the sidewalk, the other buildings in the area, the weather, and sometimes nothing at all.
Their activities have drawn the attention of passing motorists and pedestrians. The local police have been summoned several times, by people concerned about the odd behavior of these men, who wander around the area at all hours, muttering messages into their headphones, and wearing strange, bulky outfits that include odd-looking vests, even in warm weather. I’ve never witnessed one of the encounters with the police, but I know none of the men have ever been arrested, taken into custody, or even cited, and I doubt that any of the encounters ever show up on a police log.
The only entrance to the building is in the back, away from the street. There are other exits, but they’re difficult to see from the outside. As I walk to the entrance, I often pass some of the men. I know many of them by name, and they all seem to know exactly who I am, and sometimes we exchange pleasantries. All of them have college degrees, and many have advanced degrees of one sort or another. They are clean-cut and fit, but they always look a little tired.
I am aware of being monitored by several video cameras as I approach the building. It doesn’t bother me.
To get into the building, I have to use a magnetic cardkey. There is no receptionist. I hold my cardkey up to the door, a small light by the lock turns green, and the door is open for a few seconds. The door opens into a small foyer, and then there is another door like it. Behind the second door, there is a short hall, with rooms on either side. The first room after the second door is a large room, with a big table in it. This room is almost always occupied by a group of younger, less clean-cut men and women. They are usually playing cards, but I’ve also seen them playing monopoly. It’s clearly just a way to kill time. When they’re in the room, they have nothing to do until they’re summoned. Every once in a while, I’ll see them all leave the room together and head out the door. I don’t know how often this happens, because I don’t spend much time in the hall, and I don’t know where they go. Usually when I pass the room, they’re either playing cards, or else the cards are laid down on the table as if they had been interrupted in the middle of a game.
Farther down the hall, there are several doors. Most are unmarked. My work is behind one of them.
To open the door, I have to dial a combination. The door opens onto a small area. Inside the small area, I remove all of the electronic devices I carry and place them on a shelf. I remember to turn up the ringer on my cell phone to its highest volume, to increase the probability that I will be able to hear it, because I have to leave it on the shelf and can’t carry it with me.
On the other side of the small area is a second door. This one is heavier, and requires dialing two combinations, which are both different from the combination of the outer door. It usually takes me a few tries to open them–they’re tricky, and very sensitive to any variation in timing.
I open the inner door and enter a larger room. There is a small sheet of photographs hanging by the door–photos of everyone who has the codes to open the door. It is largely unnecessary at this point, at least for the people who work in the room, because everyone who works in the room knows everyone else. An unexpected visitor will provoke a rapid response.
I sit down at a desk (desks are not assigned, although more often than not I end up sitting at the same desk) and key in my combination in order to access my files. Everyone with access to the room knows the combination to the door, but I am the only person who knows this combination.
After I unlock my files, I still can’t access the current project information until I key in another, longer, trickier combination. Then I can access the latest information. I am ready to begin work.
And then I realize that I’ve left my lunch at home.
If this all sounds exciting, it’s merely because I’ve been disingenuous, and you’ve filled in the missing details in a way that makes them seem more interesting than they really are.
Here’s the truth.
The building I work in is inexpensive to rent. This appeals to my employer. It doesn’t bother me.
The parking lot is filled with cars owned by engineers. Engineers drive sensible, boring cars, for the most part. We don’t make statements with our cars, or other things we can buy. We make statements about ourselves by what we create.
The men wandering around the parking lot and the surrounding area are testing a new wireless communication system that involves voice and video. Most of them know me because I used to work on something related to that project. They do get visits from the police fairly regularly, because many of the things they do during testing can be interpreted in a suspicious manner.
The people who play cards in the conference room are interns. The project they are working on requires large numbers of people, but not all of the time. It’s somewhat sporadic and unpredictable, so they sit around and kill time until they are summoned to do whatever it is that they do for a few hours.
There is no number outside the door to the room where I work because the hall was recently painted and the numbers haven’t been put back up.
The room where I work is locked because the customer is concerned about the sensitivity of the data we are using and creating. It’s not some sort of top-secret bunker. This is a fairly ordinary set of safeguards for protecting sensitive personal info. Ditto with the keys protecting the data.
And I’ve been feeling guilty about leaving my lunch at home for years. I really should bring in my lunch more often. The cafeteria food is overpriced and not very healthy.
