There are pictures that somehow, once they crop up, you can try and try, but they just won't go away. They're the sort that once you start thinking about them, they just stick there in your mind like glue, and no matter how hard you try to distract yourself from those images, they're pretty much like a Polaroid glaring at you up close.
I'm seeing a white table, you know, one of those work tables that you get from IKEA that was, and is, supposed to encourage lots of scribbling and writing and tossing of papers here and there. It's the sort of white table that technically facilitates mess cos' you'll never lose them being all under the piles.
And I'm seeing this white table shoved against the wall between a shelf on the right and a shelf on the left and whilst those shelves don't belong exclusively to you, you can use one part of the shelf for whatever you need, which you'll find- after a couple of hours- that you really need at least one shelf as there're no drawers, no slots on the desk whatsoever and you've got to get boxes to drop everything in.
Where the table is, there is no privacy either. Even if you wanted some, there'd be none present, because what with the office space being this quirky, everyone ends up in the oddest of corners. (One colleague had his table parked two steps away from the office door. Another colleague had hers facing the door.) Mine was closest to the pantry. It was also closest to the in-house toilet/bathroom.
Yup, an agency life.
I'm seeing a white table, you know, one of those work tables that you get from IKEA that was, and is, supposed to encourage lots of scribbling and writing and tossing of papers here and there. It's the sort of white table that technically facilitates mess cos' you'll never lose them being all under the piles.
And I'm seeing this white table shoved against the wall between a shelf on the right and a shelf on the left and whilst those shelves don't belong exclusively to you, you can use one part of the shelf for whatever you need, which you'll find- after a couple of hours- that you really need at least one shelf as there're no drawers, no slots on the desk whatsoever and you've got to get boxes to drop everything in.
Where the table is, there is no privacy either. Even if you wanted some, there'd be none present, because what with the office space being this quirky, everyone ends up in the oddest of corners. (One colleague had his table parked two steps away from the office door. Another colleague had hers facing the door.) Mine was closest to the pantry. It was also closest to the in-house toilet/bathroom.
Yup, an agency life.
Specifically, the boutique sort, where you work with stringent manpower, where interns are an occasional presence, where everyone triples or quadruples their actual JD from time to time (everyone is an ad-hoc receptionist) and where the work culture encourages a camaraderie between co-workers like few other corporate agencies will have. It's changed a little since then, I should say, but there are moments where you get reminded of the actual work itself, the process, the tasks required before you get to the final outcome.
Whether it be an interview or two within a day's work, whether it be packing samples into paper bags, whether it be attending rehearsals, or sending out media invites, or doing the media run, or banging out a one-page release; whether it be doing the media run again for the second time, or meeting a prospective client at their yet-to-be-opened store, whether it be sorting out the samples, or helping a colleague with the logistical stuff at launches, or being a wide-eyed noob at the celebrity-filled event that you're *present at* for the very first time, it isn't very much the actual product launch that you remember at the end.
It's the thrill of coverage that gets to you, and after all the multiple projects, even after you've moved on and up and away, it's still that thrill you seek, it's that thrill that you thrive deep into those nights for, and it's that thrill that drifts before your eyes- and sticks in your brain- when you take an afternoon stroll along the Singapore River.
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| somewhere along this side |