Sunday Scrawl #3: An Ode to Office Orchard Lost

Disclaimer: I just wanted to write something like Office Space meets The Odyssey. I’ve never worked somewhere like this, wouldn’t want to, and don’t think it would be ethical to.

So you’re the newest member of the team—welcome to work!

Officially, I’m here to teach each acronym and perk

Pontificate our policies, procedure, process, rules

To fill your fevered, fledgling mind with flattery from fools

The suits upstairs have sent me here to stir up your ambition

But as you soon shall see, I’ve come with quite another mission

I’ve come to tell a tragic tale, a history long hidden

Exhume an office mystery where secrecy was bidden

I’ll tell, at last, of times long past, in this verbose oration

The tale they didn’t tell you at employee orientation

Four orgs and seven years ago, we weren’t what now we are

These days, we work with all our might to barely meet the bar

But way back when, this office wing was far from what it seemed

Back then, we lived like employees have rarely even dreamed

We’d all arrive at seven, sharp, to keep up the appearance

That every office ordinance had earned our strict adherence

We’d grumble mumbled grievances to everyone we’d meet

And give a surly, sour look to make our act complete

But once we’d got within our wing, past earshot, out of view

We’d shed our corporate camouflage and start the day anew

Our book club met at 12 o’clock, the actors met at four

We’d daily ping-pong tournaments and weekly tugs-of-war

Philosophy and poetry, roleplaying, singing, sewing

We called this place the Orchard, named for all the people growing

See, all day long, we’d joke, debate, we’d write, mock fight, compose

Then in the evening, trickle out, play-acting office woes

For years our Orchard thrived unharmed, our meek white-collar mutiny

A bastion of humanity preserved from suited scrutiny

But how? With eyes on deadlines, metrics, dollar signs, and zeros

How could our Orchard stay unseen? For that, we thank our heroes.

Our founder, Derek, brought to life the Orchard that we prized

That precious, perfect place grew out of plans that he devised

You see, what Derek used to do, indeed, all of his team

Was making graphs that said profits were better than they seem

For years, brave Derek tried to tell of all the truth he saw

He’d write his bleak reports, and he’d enumerate each flaw

His charts were grim, but every section came with a solution

The cost was high, but they could dodge financial execution

But management would not face facts, and wore down his resilience

They’d balk, demand he stretch the truth, turn blunders into brilliance

One day, he broke. “If, every time, my research turns to lies,

I’ll skip the heartbreak, make it up—sure! Sales are on the rise!

Business is booming! Stocks are up! If they don’t want the truth

My job description’s fiction, they don’t need a data sleuth.

They want a data conjurer to summon charts from air

So be it. Here are fantasies! I know that you don’t care!

I know you’re only saving face, awaiting the right time

To pack your bags with cash and leave us here without a dime

Well, fine! But if the money’s yours, the time, at least, I’ll take

He faked his data, churned out charts, and then, he took a break

He’d game, he’d lounge, he’d read, he’d scrounge (he had the corner seat)

And for a time, he really thought his joy was now complete

But soon he found that every day, he’d read, he’d watch, he’d scroll

He’d been freed from his busywork. Freedom, it seemed, was droll

He waited for a goal, some something worthy of a fight

And time just barreled on, with every day merely alright

Well, months went by, and all too soon, he found his work was spotted

He got an emailed invite, and then, gloomily, he trotted

To meet with some executives—his presence was required

He bowed his head in corporate dread and found out he’d been—

Promoted? How? Why now? His cheerful outlook was the trick

His work was thought sublime, reports well-written, graphics slick

And though they surely hadn’t learned that none of it was true

He wondered if they’d even care about it if they knew

Good Derek took the promo, shocked, perhaps a little smug

The money was a trifle, but the power was a drug

He’d lead his own department, have a whole wing for his team

And then he had a little thought that turned into a dream

His vision was a simple one: his employees would thrive

He’d cultivate the curious, ignite our dreams, our drive

He’d shield us all from working, just to see where we would go

Under his wing, the thing we called the Orchard soon would grow

He gathered his direct reports for his impassioned pitch

He shared his plans and trusted that his colleagues wouldn’t snitch

Discussions and debate ensued—of duty and of law

Of jobs, careers, of contracts made, of camels’ backs and straw

Some people could not countenance this master plan of play

They saw it as a breach of trust to fail to earn our pay

But all of us despised our higher-ups with such an ire

That no one told them anything about how we’d conspire

So while disgruntled workers looked for greener fields to tend

The budding Orchard looked for ways to not meet a swift end

Our first concern was being seen—if someone saw us shirking

We’d be dismissed, or reassigned, and either way meant working

Over the weeks, we ran our drills, we prepped, we planned, we timed

Our cameras placed, our codes established, motion sensors primed

So when at last the corporate suits descended from their palace

Our practiced preparations hid our doings from their malice

Projector screens came down to shield our murals from their gaze

A hand sign signal network tracked execs through the hallways

And when someone we didn’t trust passed through our wing by chance

We’d don our corporate clothing and we’d do our office dance

We always had our whiteboards prepped with some untidy scrawl

And colleague sentries waiting who were trained to subtly stall

While we, within, all frantic, would prepare an imitation

Of boring busy bumbling, some office congregation

So all the time the Orchard bloomed, we never once were caught

Our greatest struggle, now, somehow, was our help being sought

See, Derek’s fabricated graphs appealed to C-suite vanity

And ever-more requests came in for some absurd inanity

As mentioned, our executives preferred fiction to fact

But each ego assuaged meant documents we can’t take back

We’d do our best to make our logic sound, data consistent

But often, claims were unsupported, sources nonexistent

With every week, our house of cards was closer to collapse

A double-check, a second-guess, would catch us in our traps

We’d need some strange magician to make reason from delirium

Which brings us to our second Orchard hero: dearest Miriam

Sweet Miriam did not arrive as someone we’d adore

She came to our department seeking out her chance to soar

From here, the bottom floor, this bright-eyed new-grad spied the top

She grabbed the corporate ladder, started climbing, wouldn’t stop

In fact, when Derek first proposed that we could all kick back

Our bright-eyed Miriam was first to go on the attack

This plan, she said, would stunt her growth. She meant to earn her keep

She’d planned out her advance, she said. She had to sow to reap

And sure enough, she left us, and we all watched from afar

As high above, she glowed, the corporate heaven’s newest star

Now, though we saw just progress, growth, ambition, upward trends

Poor Miriam—she was a candle lit from both its ends

She’d climbed and struggled, fought and yearned, drove on at any cost

“The only way to go is up,” she said. “How am I lost?”

She wobbled—all this work, and it had only made her sadder

She let go of the rungs and tumbled from the corporate ladder

Each day, she made her way to work, worn down, ambition faded

Her hours were an email-drenched malaise through which she waded

And all the days blurred into haze, her workhorse fervor waning

And grinding, earning, networking? They all felt cold and draining

Of course, to her dismay, her lapse did not escape her bosses

But when she reached to them for help, they only cut their losses

So Miriam, cut off, cut out, wandered in corporate mires

They hadn’t fired her—not yet—but she knew their desires

In this, her darkest hour, there was one surprising grace

Good Derek met with her—amid the gloom, a friendly face

The rest of us, to my deep shame, took great joy in her plight

We saw her fall from office grace as proof that we were right

We saw a corporate Icarus mid-plummet towards slaughter

But Derek saw a broken girl who could’ve been his daughter

So we were more than shocked when he announced that she was back

“I’ll stay right here,” she said, “until I get my life on track.”

So weeks and months went by, and Miriam, once burned, now shier

With halting hesitance, signed up to join our Orchard’s choir

And as she learned to sing so sweet to make your heartstrings tremble

The shattered, scattered shards of her began to reassemble

Of all the wondrous things the office Orchard once possessed

Sweet Miriam, from her own ashes made again, was best

And when our pax officia was straining at its seams

Dear Miriam stepped up to safeguard all our Orchard dreams

Our phony data, now, was at risk of disintegration

An unprepared response could mean unpleasant altercation

The best the rest of us could do was to postpone and patch

But now, in Miriam, our problem fin’lly met its match

With slides and charts, with Excel arts, with formulas and rows

Our Shakespeare of the spreadsheet covered up our corporate woes

Somehow, every executive received reports detailing

How they were great—and so were we—but all their peers were failing

They’d come right back in fuming pairs when they compared reports

But Miriam, somehow, would always have ready retorts

With perfect feigned impatience she’d explain conflicting papers

Her acting classes here paid off—not once, in all her capers

Did anyone distrust her; never once was she maligned

She pulled the wool over their eyes and told them they were blind

She’d wiggle out of every trap, be blameless in each scandal

To her, no weaver of false worlds ever held a candle

She bought us time and peace of mind and watched over our glade

Our office Orchard bloomed despite the company’s slow fade

We lived and laughed within these walls, were gentle, kind, instructive

Our workplace filled with works of wonder, none of them ‘productive’

For months, we stayed beneath our Orchard boughs, all safe and warm

We danced beneath the branches that shook with the coming storm

We should’ve treasured every pleasure present in those times

We should’ve known those joys, someday, would be consigned to rhymes

But all too soon, the day arrived. The suits that we abhorred?

We felt a stab of pity when they went to meet the board

When they emerged in sorry state, they spoke to us of debt

Of bankruptcy, conditions, of some quotas we’d not met

We learned that nothing could be done—the documents were signed

In two weeks, most of us would leave—one-fifth were left behind

Sweet Miriam was shaken by the news, and at her age

She met the news with anger, self-disgust, unbridled rage

She felt we had betrayed our colleagues, played on borrowed time

She blamed herself the most, though, thought her deeds a selfish crime

“We should’ve armed ourselves,” she said, “with memos, spreadsheets, charts

Convinced them of the dangers, long before the chopping starts”

“Perhaps,” I said, “we couldn’t help it—good things never linger”

“We’ll never know,” she spat “because nobody raised a finger”

Well, soon we bade our sad goodbyes, and went our separate ways

Retirement for Derek, trails for Miriam to blaze

I wonder how she sees it now, with time to cool her wrath

I wonder if she needed some hiatus on her path

I hope she found a space for play, to which she owes rebirth

I hope her head is in the clouds when she’s not down-to-earth

And me? I stayed, adapted, learned to synergize, to crunch

New boss, new goals, new policies, clock in, clock out, quick lunch

We put our heads down, grieved our loss, moved on and earned our keep

Same desk, same walls, same halls, but somehow small now, shallow, cheap

For so long, in my footfalls, I heard Derek’s dirges ringing

I heard a Miriam memoriam in email pinging

I worked now in a hollowed, hallowed stumpyard, hopes entombed

In sorry simulacrum of the orchard that once bloomed

I raged against this cage, this stage, this farce of office fiction

I wished to leave, but also wished to burn in new conviction

I dreamed someday I’d come to life, in daring, flaring boldness

Revitalize those legacies and bring warmth back to coldness

I’d be the change, I’d take the reins, advance, arise, ascend

I’d bring about an Orchard age which never had to end

We’d have our cake and eat it, too, labor enough to last

We’d all work hard, get the job done, then play like times gone past

…but I waited, and it faded, hate sedated, hopes deflated

And days just grated by, and I knew all this I’d created

This perfect plan of sudden strength? This fantasy I’d fight?

I’d never seized the moment in my life. This time? Yeah, right.

What now? I’d never live the dream on which my hope was staked

I’d had my date with destiny. I’d stood her up. I’d flaked.

I’d never match the peerless, fearless leaders that we needed

But I would not allow my dreams to pass away unheeded

I had one final vow. “If I can’t bring about my aim,

At least I’ll keep alive the tale of what we could reclaim”

In hopes Derek and Miriam live on in someone new

In hopes that now I’ve finally found the one I’ve sought in you.

I’ve spun for you this tragic yarn of all that came before

To show you what I hope that maybe, somehow, you’ll restore

So, dearest office infant, contemplate what you’ve been told

And settle in, a prim and proper member of the fold,

But please, within your heart of hearts, recall our solemn story

And plot, and scheme, and when you get the chance, bring back our glory

Upon this spot, where once in better days our orchard grew

I give you now the seed, the hope, of office orchard new.