Five Minutes Standing Up, and This Week I Speak — Epoche A2
Monday, 8:55 a.m. At five minutes to nine the whole office stands up for the chorei , our morning assembly, and today it is my turn to speak. Nobody announces it. The chairs go back, people form two lines by the window, and the room goes quiet. 8:56. The section chief reads last week's numbers. Sales are a little under the plan for the month. He does not tell anyone off; he simply says the figure and lets it sit there for a moment. 8:58. My name. One minute, on any subject. I had prepared something about a customer's telephone call on Friday — a small complaint, easily fixed, but the same complaint we had in June. My voice was thin at the start. Halfway through I noticed that people were listening, and it steadied. 9:02. We recite the company motto together. I have said these two lines hundreds of times and I still do not know who wrote them. 9:04. Finished. Chairs forward, computers on. I used to think the working day began when I sat down. It does not. Five standing minutes decide what the week is going to feel like, and this morning, because I spoke inside them, the week is mine.