Accept our Appreciation With Complimentary Bagels and Mediocre Coffee

The Building smells of coffee. Freshly burned coffee. There are several kettles lined up on a long plastic table. It's Employee Appreciation Day today. There are a few women setting up the table still. They spread out bagels with tubs of cream cheese and a stack of napkins are placed at the beginning of the table. I watch as the three women who set up the table and who are wearing cafeteria uniforms, each grab a cup of coffee and a bagel. They sit down together and eat. 

It's 9:00am now and I see people slowly starting to filter through the line of food and (burned) coffee. I recognize the first wave of people who go through the line as administration. They all wear slacks and button-up shirts or polos. They greet each other with half smiles and handshakes. After they go through the line they sit down and mingle with one another.

While the administration employees were getting their food I noticed the janitorial staff greeting each other near the janitorial closet. They give warm smiles and hugs to one another. They pile behind the administration and grab some (still burned) coffee and bagels. 

I watch as the administration and the janitorial staff greet each other once everyone  has gotten their food and drinks. They all stand in the main area talking to one another for a few minutes before everyone separates and sits down with their friends. In this case, the administration sits with the administration while the janitors sit with the janitors. 

While all of this is going on, there are young students walking in and out of the administration and janitorial staff. They need to cut through in order to get to down stairs where there are open tables and an Einstein's Coffee shop. There is no communication between these students and the employees in any situation aside from a few "excuse me" and "pardon me"'s. 

Now, after everyone has gone through the line for food, the Building's head honcho makes her way to the center of the room. Ms. Watkins. She is an older Hispanic woman. Maybe in her fifties. She has freshly dyed brown hair and some dark lipstick on. "Good morning, team," she says, "I just want to say thank you for all of your hard work. I know how much you each do to make this center as successful as possible. Please accept our appreciation with these bagels and coffee. Keep up the great work." There's a considerably long and awkward pause while people debate whether they should clap or not. They decide to applaud, but it was so weak it was probably best that they kept silent. 

Everyone goes back to chit-chattin' with their friends. 

Students still stumble in and out of the crowd of employees. Both students and employees remain indifferent to one another. 

Looking at the crowd before me, I notice that it is easily identified as two groups. The janitorial staff sit together on the right wearing their matching maroon uniforms. The administration sits on the left in their array of Aggie colors. 

When the breakfast starts winding down to an end, however, I notice that the groups start to mingle again before they separate. They say their good-byes as they finish their cups of coffee. Eventually, by 10 o'clock, the breakfast has finished and everyone parts ways to go back to work. 

The Semester is Coming to an End

My field site is SLOW today. It's like everyone has lost any ability to function. People are lumbering around in literal pajamas and slippers. Literally. The first person I saw today was in silk pajama bottoms with bright pink slippers. Everyone looks dead.

Slippers, who I had seen earlier, was a larger white girl. She was maybe twenty years old and had disheveled blonde hair. She sat in a chair and was focused on her phone for about twenty minutes before she left.

There's a group of students slumped in chairs. There are a few textbooks out but no one is reading them. They sit and talk to one another giving the impression that studying won't be happening anytime soon. There are four of them and they're all guys in their early twenties.

As of right now, it's just me and the four guys. It's so slow today.

I see the janitors coming through. Hilda, an elderly Hispanic woman, walks with a limp and it looks painful! I ask her what's wrong and she says she needs to have surgery to remove a chip of bone in her knee.  She walked over with Maria and Rodney who are both short and also Hispanic. "Hola, mija. Como estas?"  "Bien, bien, gracias." They all seem tired. I know they've been working extra hours and it shows in their weary faces.

While I was talking to Hilda a student comes through and falls asleep on a bench. She is in a hoodie and sweats and had her hair in a baseball cap.

People Watching

I'm outside today. Let me tell you, it is perfect out. It's seventy degrees, the sun feels so warm and there's no breeze. The sky is summer blue in early November and I love it. I'm people watching outside of the building I usually observe in because I can't imagine being inside right now.

People are hustling like mad. I find it surprising that there is a rush at 4 o'clock in afternoon. The first pair I see are two white guys, maybe twenty years old.  They are both in workout attire and one has a basketball in his hand.  They chit chat as they walk past.

The next person I see is quite a treat. He's a skinny white boy, probably just under twenty years old. He is riding an excessively tall unicycle and he's really good at it! He's going UPHILL. What a talent.

A gaggle of girls walk by. They are a hodgepodge of ethnicities. I see some African Americans, some Caucasians, and some Hispanics. I count twelve girls in all. I assume they are all part of a sorority because four of them are wearing shirts that say Delta Zeta. They are done up nicely in fresh make up and hair. They talk happily and trot past me.

Coming from the other direction, my right, is a lone man. He is presumably in his sixties and clearly Hispanic. He has round cheeks and is wearing a blue button down shirt with red suspenders. He's got a limp in his right leg. I notice that he walks with his head down and doesn't make eye contact with anyone.

Closely behind Suspenders is two young women, probably in their early twenties. They're holding hands as they walk down the sidewalk. One is in heels and a pencil shirt and her thick, black hair is in a tight bun. The other woman has her long blonde hair down and is wearing jeans and cargo jacket. The woman in heels is black and the the woman in the cargo jacket is white. They flirt as they walk past and have been giggling the entire time.

To my left, two bicyclists zoom past. They go very fast so the only thing I notice about them is their bicycling gear. Both suits are bright neon colors, one is orange and one is green.

Here comes a tour. To my right, there is a large crowd with maybe thirty people. The crowd is composed of several different families. I notice that several sets of parents are touching or holding on to young children. They look around curiously and point out things of interest to one another from time to time.

Average Joe's on an Average Day

To the left of my desk are several students conglomerated together. They're heavily invested in large textbooks. Two boys, five girls. All white. I'm not exaggerating when I say that every single one of them had a Starbucks cup.

To my right, where the wall used to be, there is a computer lab with all glass windows. Busy, busy students type the afternoon away.

There is a new custodial crew in the building. I guess that every few years they change out crews and send them to other buildings. Though it's nice to meet new people, I miss the old janitorial crew. We had grown close over the year and a half that we worked together. But I'm starting to get to know the new crew well. Martha has bright, blonde, curly hair. She wears thick make-up and speaks very little English. She is skinny, tall, and Hispanic. "Hola mija!" she says. "Que paso, Martha?" She strides away. Her friend, Martin, is a short, stubby, Mexican man. He is balding and has a large belly and cheery,  rose cheeks. He saunters around the building with his cleaning supplies.

My boss walks past my desk. She is a busy woman and is constantly brushing past the desk. She doesn't even acknowledge me this time because she is fixed on her phone. Her name is Hillary. Hillary is a heavy-set Hispanic woman in her fifties. She has short brown hair and a no-nonsense attitude.

Martha comes back. "Hola mija!" she says again.

The study group is packing up their things. They head out the front door together. The Starbucks cups are now empty.

The mailman stops by today. George. I see George all of the time. "Como estas, hita?" he says. "Muy bien, y tu?" "Bien, bien, gracias." He hands me two large packages. Scrawny, hard working George heads out the door. I think he's probably in his late 40's.

Two people step off the elevator. They walk past me. One woman, probably in her thirties followed by a man who is probably in his sixties. She has short, red hair and her pale skin tells me she's Caucasian. He is too. He's thick and has no more hair on his head.

My time is up.

The Berlin Wall Comes Down

It's early and the construction workers are running around like mad. There is a lot of shouting and grunting. Today, the dreadful wall comes down.

For the entire year there has been construction in the building. That construction has been tucked away behind a very large, very obnoxious, very ugly wall. Due to it's unpopularity, it's been dubbed The Berlin Wall.  For months I have been looking at this wall, and today that is no more. Because the construction crew is finishing some final touches, the entire second floor is shut down.

Let me give you some perspective. I work as a receptionist in a large circular desk. Directly to my right is The Berlin Wall. To my left is a lobby and some small office spaces. Usually the construction workers and I will banter all day long, but they are too focused today. Jesse, my favorite, comes through the door with a large metal pipe. "Morning, sweetie," he says, "it's coming down today!" I smile because he knows that I have a strong distaste for The Berlin Wall. Jesse is a tall, burly Mexican man. I've never seen him not smiling. He is also the foreman of this particular crew and they all have the highest respect for him. He saunters off with his metal pipe and is followed by two of his workers who are also carrying pipes. The shorter one is Mexican and is wearing a neon orange shirt. The other man, who is also short, is named Daniel. He nods as he walks past-he's a shy one, he is. I hear the other men on the other side of the wall. They all shout to each other in Spanish and
I can't understand what they say.

Then I see it the first board come down. I see the new rooms on the other side. Herman is on the other side of the wall and he is busy unscrewing the board that will come down next. Herman, I'm guessing, is the oldest one on the crew. He's probably in his mid-sixties. His round pot-belly makes it difficult for him to get up and down. His white hair is tucked under his navy-blue bandana.

Joe is working on the side of the wall where I am. He's starting to get The Berlin Wall down from my side of the wall. Joe is a fit young buck. He has a thick, long black ponytail. His English is very poor but he tries very hard to make conversation.

Jesse and the two other guys come back to the second floor. They go and grab more medal pipes and then disappear to the first floor again.

I see two construction workers who I don't know do a touch-up paint job on the doors and on the walls. These two, like every other construction worker, are Mexican. They both appear to be mid-forties.

Puddles, Muggles, and Candy's Bright Pink Hair With Matching Knee-High Socks

The crummy weather draws more people into the building than usual. It's been cloudy all day but in the most pleasant way. I see a majority of the some thirty people in the building holding warm coffees. The first wave of sweater weather has started today.

The thirty people I see are are college students, mostly girls. Some of them are lounging about in the chairs. Every single lounger has their eyes fixed on their phone. The others are studying diligently (and by diligently, I simply mean they are staring at their phones less than the loungers) with books sprawled out on the table. The rain has made the air humid and the building feels stuffy. There's a large, unavoidable puddle by the front door and it's quite amusing to watch people try and avoid it. The first girl I saw try to enter the building made an attempt to hurdle the puddle. She landed promptly in the middle. In defeat, she trudges the rest of the way through the puddle and into the building. Several others make the same attempt and only one makes it successfully (but to be fair, the successful jumper had legs longer than my body).

It's 7:00, Monday night. It should be Anime Night but instead it's Harry Potter Night. I'm not even mad. Sadly, no one is dressed up. Well that's a lie, there's one person in a Hogwarts scarf. All of them are gathered in chairs sitting quietly. It looks like more of a reading circle than a club because they each have their own book and are just sitting silently reading. I count seven of them, three boys and four girls. Two of the girls are twins and they have matching red hair with wide set eyes and pale skin. One of the other girls, the one in the scarf, has long brown hair and thick thick glasses. She's in full sweater weather gear. Boots, leggings, and what other than a sweater. The other girl is Asian, and she is focused on her book with immense concentration. The three boys are rowdy together, they laugh and cackle with each other in between pages. One is obnoxiously tall and maybe Italian? The other two are generic white, college boys in basketball shorts and T-shirts.

Then comes Candy. Candy is somewhere in her 40's, if I was being generous, her 30's. She is a large woman with BRIGHT pink hair and a quirky personality. She has pink, knee-high socks. She is also transgender. Let me start with the thing I notice most, which is surprisingly, not her hair. It is the trail of judgmental stares that follow behind her. I see her walk past various groups and the second she passes them they point and snicker and stare. They're like middle-schoolers.

She saunters through the building, head down.

The Hustle and Bustle of a Monday

I sit down and the crowd is so intense, people can't move left or right without having to wait ten minutes to get anywhere. The building is CROWDED, holy goodness. People are chittering and chattering causing the room to fill with sound like one giant beehive. I focus on one girl with long, straight, brown hair. Her pale skin looks yellow under the luminescent lighting. She stands awkwardly and is constantly glancing from side to side. Her timid nature gets her pushed around by the crowd.

The crowd is slowly starting to make its way out the door. When I say slowly, I mean slowly. Literal baby steps. The crowd itself is dressed casually. They look young.  I assume they're middle schoolers because the sea of shiny braces and greasy, young faces screams adolescent puberty. They are either talking obnoxiously or fixated on their phones.

Anime Night

It's a Monday; therefore, it's Anime Night. It's easily my favorite event in the building. They walk in, sometimes in costumes, and they are so excited to mingle with others who have the same passion as they do. It's precious. 

It kicked off tonight with a small, gangly white boy looking for the Anime room.  I nod my head left and he turns off in that direction. After him comes a group of seven. You can tell that they're not amateurs; they head left and trump up the stairs. I hear mild bickering about Pokemon as they trail off. 

A costume walks through the door. I don't recognize the character but it's a girl dressed in a foxtail with bright, purple hair. Her hair is pushed down with a set of cat ears. She's timid and sneaks up the stairs.

I don't see anyone walk in for awhile. My attention is drawn by a group of students lounging around the tables. Their textbooks are out but they have clearly given up on studying because no one has touched the papers for a solid ten minutes. All five of them are heavily invested in their phones. 

The anime goers are easy to spot. They generally have a shirt on with an anime character publicized on the front. If not that, they'll be carrying a book with traders cards or  they are in full costume. Lo and behold, the next person to walk through the door is in full costume. I love, love, love anime night. 

He is tall, white and in a blue cape. It flicks behind him as he walks up the stairs. People are great. I love when they do what they love. It's such a rare quality. 

The students are packing up their belongings. Two girls, three guys. Buh bye, kids. 

An old man takes their table. I have seen him before. Frank. He wears suspenders everyday and has a long, white pony tail. He has a straw hat to make him that much more precious. His fish bowl glasses rest heavily on his nose. Frank is the man. 

It's getting late now, anime club is almost over. People still sneak in late though. The last person I see heading to anime club is a slender Asian man. His shirt is a dead give away. Yu-Gi-Oh. Have fun, slender Asian man. 

A gaggle of blatantly drunk girls trip through the door. They stumble and giggle all over the place. Three of them. Blonde, blonde, brunette. Their sloppiness spins through the building. Only one other person witnesses this; Frank. He looks at me and we roll our eyes together. "It's a Monday, for God's sake," he scoffs. God bless Frank and his suspenders. 

My hour is up. 

Yellow Roses

It is a busy day in building! There are a lot of suits running around. A lot of suits and pencil skirts. The first person I see today is a short, white man who is already sweating from the heat. In an effort to look professional, there is a loosely knotted tie around his neck. He has a nervous tick where his eye occasionally twitches. He hustles up and down the stairs. The first trip up he is carrying a box, but I can't tell what's inside. The second trip it's a handful of notebooks. The third is large sign.

A tall, white woman walks past in the highest heels I have ever seen. She walks wonky because of the extra seven inches under each foot. She clomp clomp clomps up the stairs carrying a small, cardboard box. Her tight bun is so tight it acts as a natural botox to her face because it pulls all of her skin back. Red lipstick, long fingernails.

The construction crew is here again. They're just finishing up, though. I see them packing all of their tools up, and as per usual, they're smiling. This morning, only six of them are working. They file out the door with their hardhats in their hands.

There is a click of janitors. They hang out together when they're not cleaning. I see them walk past me and all three of them greet me with me pleasant smiles. "Buenos dias, mija."

One janitor is a male, short and stout. He is bald and decorated in tattoos. Ernie, his name tag says.
The other two are women. Heidi and Marla. Their hair is done up nice and together they giggle about something in Spanish. All three of them are deeply Hispanic.

Because I am in close proximity and because I am also very nosy, I overhear a couple close to me.
 He is tall, dark and handsome. He's "that guy" with the great smile and curly brown hair that belongs in every Nicholas Sparks book. She is ruddy and plump in an adorable way. Her long brown hair and freckled cheeks fit her well.

Another suit and tie walks by.

In the Nicholas Spark boy's hands, there is a bouquet of yellow flowers. He kisses her on the cheek. "Yellow roses means friendship," he says. (I am witnessing a love moment in the building at 8AM. Who does that?) "and you are my best friend." I refuse to turn around and see her reaction because I'll spoil their moment. But I can hear her "ooh and ahh" over the kind gesture. I also hear them sucking face a few seconds later, so I'm assuming it went well. What a day to do an ethnography.

A swarm of executive looking men and women walk right by me. Chit chat CHIT CHAT! They hustle and bustle talking about things, I'm assuming, are of great importance based on their swift pace and assertive tones.

A lone student comes in. Her long blonde hair is in a braid and she is wearing yoga pants. She walks in the door and then down the stairs.

A tall man strides through the door. His thick black hair literally bounces with each step. Another suit and tie.

My hour is up.

Morning Crowds

The employees haven't even come in yet, that's how early it is. I walked here before the sun was able to mosey over the mountains. The construction crew is still finishing up their overnight shift. CLANG. Metal drops on the metal floor. SCHWAK. A plastic pole swings into the wooden door frame. DRILL DRILL DRILL. HAMMER HAMMER HAMMER. "Lift it higher. That's too high, bring it back down. To the left, not that left, your other left. Ay dios mio." There are seven of them; working like fluid to finish some electrical work. A bright, neon orange shirt walks through the door and checks in on the crew. "Did you get it, brothers?" The crew responds in grunts. Mhmm. He makes what I'm assuming is a joke in Spanish, because he laughs and then heads back out the door.

When they're not focused on the work, they're smiling.

The staff is starting to filter in. I see briefcases, full coffee mugs,  and folders filled tight with paperwork. They exchange nods to each other. They are focused. You can see it in their pursed lips and fresh eyes. "Morning," replied with "Mhmm."

I hear the crew give a warm chuckle.

I see a disheveled student walk through the door. His backpack is unzipped, and his single notebook is threatening to jump. His hair is sticking straight up. And out. And to the left. And to the right. His shirt reads, POWERED BY and then beneath the caption is a picture of pizza. I can relate. He walks in the building a solid ten feet, looks around. Baffled, he turns around and heads right back out the door.

More students filter in and out. Gaggles of pretty girls in high heels click clack click clack through the building. Deep, cheap, red lipstick shines bright. Giggle giggle giggle. A squad of Asian kids are trying to find a specific office. They point upstairs and then point to a piece of paper in their hand. One points downstairs and the other points back upstairs again. They study the paper and then decide to head upstairs.

The construction crew is clearing out. I watch as they pat each other on the shoulder while walking out the door. Some shake hands. They all smile.

Then it is quiet.

No one is around. Well, that's a lie. Someone is sleeping on the community couch. I can see his steady breathing. His shoulders heave with each breath and his curly brown hair is facing me.

My hour is up.