and Words
Starved for destination, a beggar man by trade
A desperate man needs more than someone else to blame
Friendless he appears, he hides behind his tears
For things he’s lost, or things he’ll never have at all
The forgotten man wanders misplaced in the world
Obscurity is all the eye can see, and I recall
I’m all alone again
Lyric excerpts from Musixmatch.
On a weekday afternoon, I look out the window in my office. It is situated on the second floor in Building 85 at Microsoft. Floor to ceiling windows line the opposing wall of the office, and through them, I see a lush meticulously landscaped landing. People may toss a frisbee out there on occasion; in fact, I may have played catch with a baseball with teammates once. On one day, I marveled at a stunning double rainbow as I look out said window. This was my ‘work’ home for a few years.
No office is ever perfect. Microsoft converted this building from a cubicle farm. Subsequently, the walls erected to separate offices were paper thin. I could easily hear people talking from the adjoining offices; these conversations were mostly casual. However, my manager sat immediately next to me, and some meetings were more sensitive. On those occasions, I’d turn my music up just enough so that they felt comfortable talking without fear from my overhearing. In some ways, it felt a bit ironic for being a member of the audio test team.
On one exceptionally hot weekend, they decided to turn off the air-conditioning to the building. They would simply turn it back on early on Monday morning. On that day, the air conditioner drew so much power in a futile attempt to bring down the temperature that it would simply overwhelm the system. It needed to be reset multiple times before it eventually limped along and made the building bearable. While I normally do most of my work on my desktop, on that day I sat in the carpet immediately outside my office door. The beautiful, floor to ceiling windows served only to turn my office into an oven.
While I worked on the occasional evening, I would close the door to my office and turn up the music. As I mentioned before, the walls were paper thin, so this did little to dampen the sound. It was mostly a gesture of politeness if anyone remained in the office. I had absurdly large home stereo speakers in my office, paired with an amp that sat on the floor beneath my desk. The music streamed from a multi-disc player that sat on my desk.
More than once, I played “Anthem to the Estranged” during some of those late programming sessions. The song starts subtly with an acoustic guitar, soon to be accompanied by haunting vocals and the dark setting. The words and music are start softly, but the words beg attention; the natural inclination is to turn the volume up. This was a ruse of course, the song lasts for over nine minutes, and it kicks in right around two minutes. It’s precisely what you might expect from a band called Metal Church. By the time I hit the two-minute mark, I hovered at the threshold of hearing loss. I considered turning down the volume to be a subtle form of betrayal, that I should question the artist’s rendition of this tune.
Along with the questionable decision to maintain the volume at a level that may more accurately be measured in Richter rather than decibels, this song fueled some truly inspired programming. Playing music that loudly obliterates most stray thoughts and allowed me to focus on the one thing immediately in front of me. The trick was to get into the groove by the end of the song and to transition into other tunes that may also inspire. Though for me, few songs drove the adrenaline as effectively as this one.
I was a member of the audio test team for Microsoft Windows; my team was special. I know many people who will say that, but this was true. We were a handful of programmers that understood what we did and were dedicated. Naturally, we all had egos, but who doesn’t. There were pockets of friction, but that will always exist. Still these set of geeks understood what we needed to do. We aspired to be better, and we all inspired each other to be better. We collectively mentored each other and were mentored by each other. Our mutual respect for each other outweighed our egos. Oftentimes, we would finish each other’s sentences.
Being the most senior among them, I once voiced how lucky we all were. It’s exceedingly rare and indeed special to find this combination of talent in one team. I imagine some were skeptical, but now realize that I was right. As a team, we were a purple unicorn. We were that mythical creature that no one believes exists until they see it.
My career turned to adulthood in those walls, which is to say that I celebrated my 18-year anniversary in that office. It was also the time when I left that audio team; it was bittersweet and unfamiliar, but I think it was time. I still keep tabs of those peeps and do not hesitate to call any of them friends.
I spent the last days of my bachelorhood in this office. While we had been together for many years, we got our first home together while I worked in this office and with this team. It became our house. I could rationalize that it was merely a change of address, but it was substantially more. It was the joining of our lives together and committing to supporting each other.
On those days before our new home, I stayed up until absurdly late hours. On occasion, I’d rush to bed as I noticed the sun starting to peek from the edges of the shutout blinds. I spent my time watching way too much television, gaming, or both. Those who had known me for decades knew me to be an unapologetic night owl. Yet with the snap of a finger, I became a morning person. Friends maintained that this was an immutable trait, but I proved them wrong. I transitioned from possibly showing up by noon to routinely getting to my desk by 8am. My manager accused me of never leaving since I routinely arrived just before him and left shortly after. He joked that the only evidence that I had left was the change of clothes.
Again, while no office is ever perfect. This was among my favorite offices, though that was less about the location and more about the memories.