I work in what might be fast becoming known as a traditional office environment. Sometimes I feel as if it is the modern day equivalent to the assembly line when it comes to churning out bits and pieces code. Truth be told, it’s a pretty easy job with no heavy lifting but, then again…
When I look upon my co-workers, I see all of us confined to cubicles. We send out our e-mails, we make our calls, we go our meetings, we write our code, we publish our proposals, we plan our agendas and team meetings and we basically remain strangers to each other.
For the most part, the office is cold. Not in terms of centigrade or Fahrenheit but cold as in the word impersonal. We know little of each other's past, less about each others present and next to nothing about each others future. After all, such knowledge, in the eyes of those in charge, is unproductive. The click of the keys and the click of the mouse is the rhapsody they would prefer to hear and many of us have indulged them. We must, for the paycheck they provide often is the determining factor when it comes to how we live our lives.
In the office, there is no room for small talk about what went on in the world or for that matter, what went on in your life. There is though, talk of “the system” and how it performed and how we can improve it. That is the welcoming dirge that is sung each and every day.
The caged bird sings his song because he needs to escape. He wants his song to be heard by others of his kind and he hopes that his song is returned. The caged bird sings much the way the writer writes, so that whomever reads his words and hears his song are somehow better off than they were prior to picking up the book or pricking up their ears.
The caged bird sings his song simply because it is in his nature to do so and he knows that there’s nothing sadder than a bird that won’t sing.
For most of us who frequent this place, we have much in common with the caged bird. We write our stories, we tell our tales, we sing our songs.