The ele­va­tor got stuck between the 32nd and the 33rd floor.
35 min­utes had already passed. A voice from the speak­ers said that the per­son­nel was sorry for the incon­ve­nience and that he had just to keep calm and to kindly wait until the tech­ni­cians would have fixed the prob­lem, there was noth­ing to worry about, “you-are-safe-sir”. There was a lit­tle beep and then the music started over again: it was a never end­ing loop of three Celine Dion’s songs of which he was unin­ten­tion­ally mem­o­riz­ing part of the lyrics.

The ele­va­tor was one of those glass cap­sule designed in the 80s, with a dark gray moquette and some blue light spots in the false ceil­ing. From there he could look at the city sky­line and at the lit­tle white sails ran­domly scat­tered between the island and the cost of the hazy bay.The air-conditioning sys­tem had stopped work­ing with the black-out and it was start­ing to get warmer. He unknot­ted the tie and he sat on the floor look­ing down at the peo­ple walk­ing on the side­walks and at the cars start­ing and stop­ping at the cross­road. He could also see his fixie, that he had locked in front of the star­bucks at the cor­ner of the street. He was happy that it was still there.
His iPhone started vibrat­ing in his pocket, it was his mother. He waited a bit, star­ing at the screen, then he decided to answer:

-… Hi mum.
– Hi baby, how have you been? You should call more often you know we…
– Yeah I know, it’s just I’ve been really busy: the apart­ment, the job…
– Yeah, we know. So how was your inter­view? Was it today, right?
– I told you it was not an interview…anyway I’ve just fin­ished the meet­ing with them…trying to get out from their office…it was good…I’ll start work­ing on this project from next week…
– Oh baby that’s a good new, you deserve it! Your father and me are so proud you quit your last job..
-…I didn’t quit, they just didn’t renew my con­tract…
– Any­way, we are so happy you are not work­ing any­more for them, they were just exploit­ing you. You should take care more of your­self, life is not just about work. So did they offer you a per­ma­nent con­tract or…
– I already told you mum: it was not an inter­view and I’m not gonna work for them, but with them…
– How do you mean?
– Come on, we already talked about that, I’m just try­ing to under­stand if I can start doing some­thing on my own. …I’m sick of work­ing for other peo­ple.
– Yeah cooky, but you can’t waste your time: it’s the moment for you to seri­ously focus on your­self and on what you really want to do.
– It’s exactly what I’m doing! By the way, it was you and Dad who told me I had to start work­ing on my own.
– Yeah, but we meant a real job…
– It is a real job!
– So how long you’re gonna work with them?
– …we agreed for…three maybe four weeks.
– Oh baby you can’t keep going like that: what are you gonna do after these three weeks? what about the apart­ment? Are you gonna leave it at the end of the month?
– I don’t know mum, really, I can’t say…
– How don’t you know it? And how about Sandy, what does she says about all this sit­u­a­tion?
– She’s look­ing for a new job as well, it’s not easy…
– I’ve really the impres­sion you guys are wast­ing your time.You are not two teenagers any­more, you should try to be more mature…
– We are mature mum, we just don’t have a job…I have a job actually…it’s just that it’s hard to plan things for the future.
– Why don’t you come back home for a while. You can stay here and help your father.
– Dad is retired, how could I help him?
– Don’t be so aggres­sive with me. Did they give you at least a nice office where you can work for the next three weeks?
-…No, I will be doing my work from home.
– How do you mean?

He put the call on speaker and posed the phone down on the floor. Out­side it was more and more misty and the fog was ris­ing from the street to the top of the tower, like dust after an explo­sion. For a moment he could still see the pin­na­cles of the build­ings in front of him, but then every­thing turned white. He started feel­ing a bit lost and anguished; so he got up and he thought he had to call the secu­rity again. He put his fin­ger on the emer­gency but­ton, but then he stopped and he started look­ing at the milky white haze that had swal­lowed every­thing out­side. Celine Dion. He put his back on the slid­ing doors; he breathed.

- baby, can you hear me?
– …
– baby, are you ok?
– …yeah, I’m fine.

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2 thoughts on “Haze

  1. 1001 00101 says:

    There is only one thing worse then unin­ten­tion­ally mem­o­riz­ing parts of Celine Dion’s songs, and that’s to be asked about a real job. What is real sup­posed to mean?

  2. Colt Sievers says:

    this is what is hap­pen­ing to us, but it’s not just our per­sonal cri­sis, it’s the cri­sis of a job which shows how weak it is in front of major global forces.
    per­haps this is the right moment for pur­su­ing our per­sonal reinvention…?!

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on Contact

2021-09-28 22:54:18

I think you misspelled the word "infact" on your website. If you want to keep errors off of your site we've successfully used a tool like SpellPros.com in the past for our websites. A nice customer pointed out our mistakes so I'm just paying it forward :).


on 12+ h. a day, 6/7 days a week

2017-08-06 12:09:32

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multitude- multitude

on Survey

2015-04-01 13:27:31

[…] the spon­ta­neous responses to the last ques­tion of the sur­vey car­ried out in […]

Conrad Newel

on 12+ h. a day, 6/7 days a week

2015-03-23 18:10:56

@Colt Sievers I will be the first to agree with you on all counts. I would love to read that article. If you ever want to publish it on my blogg please do not hesitate to contact me.

Colt Sievers

on 12+ h. a day, 6/7 days a week

2015-03-23 16:58:10

@Conrad having worked in one of those offices that you mention, I have found your post as much provocative as naive and simplistic. I should make an entire post to explain why... will leave that for later. Thanks, anyway, to keep the discussion alive