In the spotlight today is 6th Form student, Chawana, with an A-Level English Language descriptive writing piece “The Workplace”. Chawana and her fellow 6th From students are preparing for taking their A-Levels in June.
The light-toned infrastructure stood grand, towering tremendously over the plethora of its inhabitants. Inside, the walls and the floor seemed to blend into each other effortlessly, a cacophony of miniature drums resonated against the transparent panes. Monotonous shades of grey, draped themselves across the room, adding to the dreary atmosphere.
Ding.
The stainless steel was ice to his fingertips, as the blocks of metal groaned in response, as he stepped into the mobile box.
It was hard to believe that Richard had been greeted by these same four walls for six years now, as he gulped down the bitter opaque liquid in his plasticine cup.
Six years and the company still couldn’t afford a little sugar, He grimaced.
Ding.
The gentle familiar hum from multiple screens and the occasional paper jam alert traveled through the vast office space. Intermittent tapping soon followed, alongside the discrete-yet-not-so-discrete yawns and stretches, as the bleary-eyed bodies embarked on their daily routes and routines around the room. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Richard exhaled deeply and set to work through the tower of emails that seemed to accumulate overnight.
The smell of roasted chicken wafted through the ajar window, and the muted hubbub grew louder from the city below. Although the aromas were tempting, Richard’s brow deepened in concentration. Food could wait.
Just one more..
The rebellious rumble that succeeded, protested differently. How had the morning raced past already?
Standing in the queue, Richard’s appetite became increasingly fervent, as the vibrant hues of reds, yellows, and greens, adorned the steaming pieces of poultry on the plates of the fellow staff members. The clatter of cutlery clashed with the enthusiastic discourse.
“Hey, Rich! Over ‘ere!” A deep voice bellowed jovially.
For the first time that day, Richard’s face lit up faster than a box of matches, as he joined his best friend Pete to eat. Their lunch hour whizzed past as the conversation between the close-knit pair flowed seamlessly, only remnants of the daily menu were left on the creamy-white ceramics by the end.
Satiated and content, he returned to his muted oak-wood space, the rusted springs creaked as he sat down on the bristly surface. His fingers glided across the familiar black squares, breathing life back into the obtrusively bright screen. Recently a promotion for Richard was on the horizon, which translated into submerging himself into the deep depths of reports and spreadsheets. Gradually, the spacious room became stained with deep streaks of orange and flames of red, as the hours dragged on. Looking up from his glaring screen, the sun hung like a pendulum in the sky, whilst wispy white masses started to obscure the skies. This was his favorite time of the day. Although chaos roamed the office, if you stayed long enough, you were lucky to witness the idyllic evenings that overruled the tyranny of the traffic jam that the office under-good throughout the day.
This was the workplace. Where the days seemed to merge together, the weeks were fleeting, and the commotion was ever-flowing.
