I know now that zebras are not cool. I never suspected that they were not, but now I know that they really are not. (Mind you I may backtrack on this latter statement.) Still how did I find out? In the most unexpected way.
My wife and I went away to Baltimore this weekend to get away from the children and the routine of long weeks of work, mainly spent in front of computers. We checked in this fancy modern tower in the center of town, two steps away from the harbor. The room had lots of windows, a warm velvety tone and had robes available in the front closet. The robes looked plush, inviting, made of that sick terri cotton. One had a black and white zebra pattern, the other a dark red leopard one. Apart from noticing them, I didn't give another thought. Soon my wife and I were deeply engrossed in the hustle and bustle of mid-town until late that night.
We were woken up the following morning by a robotic voice popping through the loudspeakers. My hand fumbled for my watch. It was 4:10 am, and according to the voice a fire had broken in the hotel. We were asked to abandon the premise at once.
I grabbed the zebra robe from the closet on my way out, my wife the leopard, and we rushed down the stairs. Soon we reached the lobby. We were among the first to get there. Within minutes however, the lobby filled with people, barely dressed. While we waited around for clearance, it was suspected that a drunk had pulled the alarm signal, we watched the crowd finishing dressing.
Since I had a front seat, pretty much anyone running out of the building had to pass in front of me. It was a great eye opening moment. A field trip for a sociologist. First I was surprised by how many people slept in pajama. About a third. It would never even occurr to me. I wouldn't say, the lobby was like a pajama party, but someone walking from the outside would certainly have thought so. Then my second observation was more direct and personal, because apart from me, no one else wore a zebra robe. I spotted about twenty other leopards in the relatively calm crowd. I searched for a while, thinking that may be I had missed one. No. No zebra in sight. Curious to think that in a state of danger, everyone without exception but myself had grabbed a leopard robe.
So what to make of this? Well, it had to be related to my work, or rather my lack of. I have been unemployed for so long that I began wondering if unconsciously I was actually becoming the single out zebra in the crowd. Am I really that visible? Invisible? Had I really lost all my aggressive leopard energy? I looked around suspiciously, asking what all these people had in common that I lacked.
Obviously the argument can be turned upside down. I patted myself for being original to pick up a zebra robe instead of melting in the anonymous mass of leopards? So far so good. The conclusion is not as clear as it seems however. Somehow something kept tugging at me. Do companies really hire zebras?
My wife and I went away to Baltimore this weekend to get away from the children and the routine of long weeks of work, mainly spent in front of computers. We checked in this fancy modern tower in the center of town, two steps away from the harbor. The room had lots of windows, a warm velvety tone and had robes available in the front closet. The robes looked plush, inviting, made of that sick terri cotton. One had a black and white zebra pattern, the other a dark red leopard one. Apart from noticing them, I didn't give another thought. Soon my wife and I were deeply engrossed in the hustle and bustle of mid-town until late that night.
We were woken up the following morning by a robotic voice popping through the loudspeakers. My hand fumbled for my watch. It was 4:10 am, and according to the voice a fire had broken in the hotel. We were asked to abandon the premise at once.
I grabbed the zebra robe from the closet on my way out, my wife the leopard, and we rushed down the stairs. Soon we reached the lobby. We were among the first to get there. Within minutes however, the lobby filled with people, barely dressed. While we waited around for clearance, it was suspected that a drunk had pulled the alarm signal, we watched the crowd finishing dressing.
Since I had a front seat, pretty much anyone running out of the building had to pass in front of me. It was a great eye opening moment. A field trip for a sociologist. First I was surprised by how many people slept in pajama. About a third. It would never even occurr to me. I wouldn't say, the lobby was like a pajama party, but someone walking from the outside would certainly have thought so. Then my second observation was more direct and personal, because apart from me, no one else wore a zebra robe. I spotted about twenty other leopards in the relatively calm crowd. I searched for a while, thinking that may be I had missed one. No. No zebra in sight. Curious to think that in a state of danger, everyone without exception but myself had grabbed a leopard robe.
So what to make of this? Well, it had to be related to my work, or rather my lack of. I have been unemployed for so long that I began wondering if unconsciously I was actually becoming the single out zebra in the crowd. Am I really that visible? Invisible? Had I really lost all my aggressive leopard energy? I looked around suspiciously, asking what all these people had in common that I lacked.
Obviously the argument can be turned upside down. I patted myself for being original to pick up a zebra robe instead of melting in the anonymous mass of leopards? So far so good. The conclusion is not as clear as it seems however. Somehow something kept tugging at me. Do companies really hire zebras?
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