"Tell a story about your job or the worst boss in the world."
One day, I rapidly woke up; a nightmare made me stand. I got ride of my blankets, reached my cellphone, initiated The Weather Channel, and smiled at the city's tolerable pollution levels. When you grow up dealing with lung problems, the first thing you think about is the air.
Then, I went to the bathroom, spotted the hung clock—it was 7:55 AM—opened the window, and looked through it. I noticed I could see the neighbor building—which was one hundred meters apart. That was a good indication. "Heck yeah, I can use my bike," I said with a winning tone. However, Mexico City was not always like this. At least for me, it makes me consider the transport I will use before leaving home every day; it is a matter of safety and self-respect.
Because of my tight schedule of the week, without having breakfast or thinking about my life a bit. I immediately took the backpack near the bookshelf, rushed to the apartment's door, called the lift, and went to B1.
Riding, the Senate was forty-five minutes apart at a rapid pace with my exercised legs. Without training, I should leave home ten minutes earlier. Plus, the daily bombs and drugs check-in at the principal entrance was chaotic on Tuesdays. I was in perfect time.
Basement 1 was a bast parking lot surprisingly clean. Where cleaning stuff, cars, and bikes were placed. I unlocked the fancy-flashy padlock my brother gave me before coming to the capital and placed it in its bag. The white-comfy helmet I used was already there, attached alongside the bicycle. I put it on. Then, I checked the tires, lights, and breaks. Excellent news; everything worked well. I headed to the building's exit, told the guard, "Have a great day, Nico. See you at noon!" and started cycling for the ramp.
* * *
"Good morning, your fingerprint or access card is required." I used my white card. It was ten times faster than the "cutting-edge" fingerprint technology of the parliament. "Have a great day, Cesar Arturo." It said. "Thanks, 'Maquinita,' you are the first one telling me than today," I answered. The bombing check quickly happened, and my last work was parking my bike at my office. I got there thirteen minutes before 9 AM.
Lourdes and Javier were already there in their seats, extremely quiet and focused. When I opened the cristal door, both cheerfully received me, saying, "Cesarin, Bienvenido!" Subsequently, I hurried to the restroom to change my wet t-shirt, unfolded a formal-white shirt, got dressed, returned to my cubicle, and opened my laptop.
Miserable, inadequate, and depressive are the adjectives that best describe our two-person white and gray cubicle. Its length was 90 centimeters—3 feet—and its width was 160 centimeters—5.2 feet. There were 8 of them intended for 17 people. Can you believe that? Our chairs were so close that if I moved a bit, each coworker would move simultaneously. On the one hand, human relations were strong enough due to our literal daily closeness. On the other hand, privacy and comfort were inexistent.
Overall, without including that experience, I could say serving the nation was fun and worth it. Twelve hours a day became standard after my first week, so I enjoyed every aspect.
Onward...
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