I slumped down in my chair, a deep sigh escaping me as I sifted through the mountain of paperwork that had accrued on my desk. When had this become my life? This company had started in a small garage on the weekends, and now we were taking up a significant chunk of a Melbourne skyscraper – and I was still working weekends.
I was happier when I’d been poor, I realised with a start, living in my parent’s basement, listening to my father tell me over and over to get a job at a commercial glazing company near me. Sometimes, on nights like this, when I was hunched over a hundred-page contract well into the early hours of the morning, I wish I’d just taken his advice.
A sharp knock at my door forced me to look up, at the questioning face of the janitor poking his head through. I shook my head at him.
‘Sorry, no need to do in here tonight,’ I sighed. ‘I’m afraid I’ll be working late. Again.’
‘Okay,’ he smiled. ‘You’re the boss.’
I nodded sadly, looking reluctantly back down at my work.
‘I guess I’ll move on to the stairs, then,’ the janitor said jovially. ‘Best glass balustrades in Melbourne, by the way. Did you know that?’
I looked up again, as his wry smile began to slowly infect me.
‘Is that so?’
‘Oh yeah,’ he chuckled. ‘I work a lot of these swanky buildings around here, and your glass balustrades? Best in the city.’
‘Thanks,’ I laughed, in spite of myself. ‘Thank you. I’ll be sure to pass that along to the, uh… glass balustrade designers? I have no idea who to pass that along to.’
He chuckled again, our laughter bouncing off one another and building into almost an echo.
‘Have a good night, boss,’ he said eventually, dabbing at the small tear that had formed in the corner of his eye.
‘You too,’ I smiled. ‘And, uh… thank you.’
He didn’t say anything, but to give me a slight wink on his way out, closing the door softly behind him.