Silence and noise

Last night, I replaced my workout with work. My night owl tendencies flared up, so I put them to use by staying late to complete some work commitments.

My office floor would score low on the “noisy office” scale because my colleagues and managers generally arrive in the morning and work alone in their cubicles. Socializing takes place beyond the work area, like in the kitchen or at a nearby coffee shop during a break, and people usually convene for meetings in boardrooms to avoid disturbing others. (Yes, people are very respectful here.) However, without speaking a word, it is possible to hear and be heard by others. I can hear my close neighbours on the other side of the grey-beige cloth-covered dividers munch snacks, shuffle papers, slurp coffee, tap keyboards, click mice, sniffle, clear throats and talk in low voices on the phone with their mothers. I know they can hear me; unfortunately for them, I'm a very loud typist and a slurper of hot drinks. I most often know that someone is at work because I hear, not see, them: a coughing neighbour is a present neighbour.. The cubicle farm functions like an auditory panopticon that maintains order through the auditory instead of the visual. It's less effective, though - we could all be writing blog entries all day….

When this office is empty and silent, and I am in the right mindframe, I can accomplish a lot more than usual. Brew a cup of mint tea, press play on the mp3 player and dive into writing until my stomach and back protest.

After skipping last night’s gym visit, I showed early up this morning and encountered a full room of exercising people, huffing and chatting and clanging weights. The sun was shining in through the wide windows, and in the background, the radio station played jingles and Taylor Swift. A living contrast to the introspective silence of the cubicle at night.