The receptionist at work sits inside a glass box in the foyer of the building. Ostensibly it’s for their own protection, given the swash and backwash of misfits, scoundrels and public servants that flow past it, but it does serve another function that might not have been intended. Everything at work that’s about work is online. The intranet is how we find out about other areas of the council. And if the public ask us something we don’t know? Type, search, click, and – bang! - the information is there. Our receptionists NEED a computer, for just this reason.
Of course, it gets used for all sorts of other things too. Reception is a pretty dull place. How do I know? I come down the stairs at the end of the day and see that computer screen’s reflection on the inside wall of the glass box. One woman, in her fifties with wide glasses, plays solitaire. Another younger woman was drawing a tree using MS Paint, with an acid cyan sky. I smile at them. They smile back, and they never know.
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