Natwerk Designs

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Chapter One: The End Late nights. Overtime at the office. Dim light. Drawing plans rolled up everywhere, torn up everywhere in the bin, on the floor, on my desk, on my seat. I guess it’s just another one of those nights at the office as an architect. You know when I was a kid I swore I wanted to be an architect. I loved playing with Legos and those damn building blocks…what do you call them? Jenga? Anyway, back in primary school I kept playing with those damn Legos and my teacher Miss Benstock. Yes, I even remember her name. It was in year two when she gave me the biggest encouragement to keep building the Legos. She said I was a natural and that I was great at it. She’s a great gal she was. Real pretty too. I mean I guess she just came out of uni and everything was all bright and stuff, unlike those older teachers with no potential, no future, just sitting around trying to reminisce on younger years by hanging around young children before they finally hit the grave. Poof. Gone and back to the earth they came from. Anyway, life isn’t anything like you imagined it in high school or primary school. It’s just crap. When you’re an architect and you don’t go big, and you’re just a small fry in a large company like Bigex Design Industries, people don’t actually notice you’re around. See, you always have these huge dreams of achieving greatness, travelling the world, shaking hands with important people and making loads of money to bring back to your beautiful wife and kids. Yea, that’s what they call the American dream. That’s why I moved to this goddam New York in 08. I originally lived with my family in San Francisco since I was born until I was 22 when I got offered a job in New York at this company called T&G Architectural Industries which goddam failed as the whole company went down to the ground in bankruptcy because of the stupid Global Economic crisis. I lost my goddam job and I moved from my large condo into this shitty little condo down 15th street. Luckily I graduated from San Francisco University with a masters in Architecture so I had a good file and everything and I got accepted into Bigex. But with minimum wage and hardly any friends there wasn’t much I could look forward to. Only a few months ago, I got news from San Francisco that my father just died. Dropped dead with a heart attack. It was damn sad. Though that old man did cause some pain in my life, I did love the guy. Man that was a depressing point in my life and it didn’t necessary do any good for my career too. I overheard some people talking about Mr Stevens, my boss, firing me in the upcoming days. So now, I’m sitting here in my little office cubicle trying to finish off this design for some Japanese customers who apparently want a whale-sized swimming pool inside their building…I watch the clock on the wall as it hits past ten at night. I swear I thought my eyelids were hanging to the desk I was so tired. I packed my little suitcase that I had with me for years. It’s really all broken up now, it’s pretty useless in holding heavier things. I don’t really care though, so I just stuff my papers into my suitcase not caring where they go. My suitcase has these slits that you can slip in your sheets, but I just couldn’t be bothered. By the time I finished stuffing my sheets in my suitcase, it looked exactly like my life. All disorganised and over the place, crumpled up and written all over. Anyway, I headed off downstairs to catch a taxi. I didn’t own a car, it costed too much. I couldn’t afford any luxuries, so I just took the bus everyday, and if I couldn’t, I’d take the cab. As I arrived on the 15th street and headed up to my depressing apartment. Seriously, if you looked at it, it looked exactly the same as all the other apartments on the entire street. Just all dull and grey with like one tree planted between each apartment and a broken down fence that separated the apartments. So anyway, I got up to the door and waited for the lift. As I got in I noticed the urine stains on the wall and the empty Macdonalds lying on the floor as I waited till I got up to the 3rd floor. There was just this dim light in the corridor flickering on and off and making the buzzing sound each time it did as I trudged to my apartment door. My apartment doesn’t have much in it. Just four rooms: bedroom, kitchen, toilet and the living room. My living room had one 16 inch TV on this old table I had with an old couch I bought almost a year ago with a pot and its wilting plant in the corner of the room. The walls were bear white with stains of grey where the wall paper was peeling off. As I got in I threw my suitcase onto the couch and slumped into my bed. I swear if I hear that alarm clock go off again I’m going to take a hammer and smash it to bits. Every morning I have to wake up at 6 just to put on my suit and get ready for work. My suit was from my dad because I couldn’t really afford a good one myself. It was probably the most expensive thing I had in my apartment, apart from my guitar. My parents forced me to get guitar lessons when I was a kid even though they could hardly pay for it. I’d thank them though because I really do like the guitar. Sometimes I spend my mellow days playing it until I felt a little better. But anyway, I did all the things a suit would do in front of the mirror. You know the usual, shaving, brushing my teeth, doing up my tie all ready for the small fry job I had at Bigex. And the usual, I get onto the bus with all these other suits looking at their watches or their phones before they got to work just like me. And of course the traffic decides today that there’s a traffic jam. So me and my fellow suits just stand there on the bus waiting for the guy at the front of the traffic to get a move along while everybody’s beeping their cars and screaming road rage language at everyone. It’s all really a hoot. Typical New York. So anyway, I’m back in my little office cubicle. Everything’s still there when I left there. Drawing plans rolled up everywhere, torn up everywhere in the bin, on the floor, on my desk, on my seat. Anyway, before I get to work on my design for the Japanese clients I get a call from Ms Diane, Mr Steven’s assistant. ‘Umm…Travis, Mr Stevens would like to see you in his office right away please.’ ‘Yes, thank you Rosie. I’ll be there in a sec.’ Sigh, here it was. The axe. Couple of my colleagues mentioned the axe on me before. Here it comes I guess. I went up the lift to the highest floor and walked up to Ms Diane before knocking on Mr Steven’s door and walking in. Man the 35th floor really was a luxurious floor. Huge spaces with black marble floor and glass doors and huge view. Wish I could live this sort of pampered lifestyle rather than my low-paying low life. ‘Good Morning Mr Stevens.’ I say as the usual greeting. ‘Ah… good morning Travis. Let’s get to the point shall we? Our company’s not going on a good run my son. Interest rates have gone up and there aren’t many clients as there used to be. Too many people worried about the Global economic crisis that makes no one want to build buildings anymore.’ Mr Stevens was a very straightforward man who liked to get down to business. To him, time meant precious money. Money that he couldn’t afford wasting…on me. ‘Umm…yes sir.’ I was getting pretty nervous then even though I knew I was getting the axe. ‘So son. There’s no easy way to say this. But we’re going to have to let you go mate. Sorry.’ And that was it. My big career all washed down the drain. Packed my bags, got my last paycheque and headed out. I hadn’t paid my rent for my apartment for like two weeks now, so I don’t know how the landlord is going to deal with me being unemployed and all. Life’s just great ain’t it?

Public Comments

1. I liked it. A few minor editing things will probably have to happen, as in all stories, but otherwise it's really good. Read mine? :http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=AkgOlA3BIEMmR6XJKax2ssXsy6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20100101183925AArWSEa