business

" Old gypsy woman spoke to me
lips stained red from a bottle of wine.
The one that you are looking for
you're not gonna find her here. "

When ever I correspond with people via email, I can't help imagining what their environment looks like, what their life is like outside of these emails.  I wonder what they see when they look out their window, and if it is cold like it is in NYC when they leave their office.  I do a lot of correspondence with a color separator in Kentucky, so I imagine when she leaves the office, she probably has a bit of a drive home and she probably sees more grass and trees than what I get.  Now I know it is much colder in Kentucky than it is in NYC, with temperatures sometimes in the single digits, and I wonder if there are any ponds on her drive home and whether they froze over and if she likes a sight like that.  I would.

Lately, I've been corresponding a lot with a publisher in London, and I know she must leave the office late because she often replies to my emails as late as 3PM EST, which means it is 8PM in London.  I know she comes in at least by 10AM, because I have received emails from her at 5AM EST.  I wonder if she had any chance to have a bit of time for herself that day.  I imagine when she leaves the office, the streets must be quiet without the hustle and bustle of the 5PM rush.  I wonder if she will eat at home or if she will grab something on the way, and whether she has to take the tube back home.  I wonder if she likes to walk through Hyde Park.  I very much enjoyed Hyde Park.

When I used to work with overseas printers, particularly this one Chinese printer, I used to wonder what their work stations looked like and whether their offices smelled bad, because whenever they sent me proofs it would just smell like death.  I would have to turn my head the other way for the initial opening, and then I would give it a few minutes to air out before I started unpacking it.  I wondered a lot about what they ate for lunch.  What do workers in China eat for lunch?  I don't know a lot of people in China who like peanut butter sandwiches, wraps, bagels, or salads (which is the kind of stuff I generally eat for lunch).  I only know what I like, but what do they like?

It's maddening that I can talk with these people for years and years over email, and I might never see their face or hear their voice.  I might never know anything about them even though we spend so much time doing business together.

When one of the employees at the separator in Kentucky retired, he gave us his home address, home phone, and cell phone number.  He told us if we were ever in the area, feel free to let him show us some southern hospitality.  I told my friends in New York about this, and we all agreed it was a bit crazy that he gave out his personal information so freely.  Maybe he's not crazy, maybe we're crazy.  Maybe we're lacking something in this new era of email.

It's just business.  Oh, I know it's just business, but we're all the same, you and I.  You in China, you in London, you in Kentucky.  We're just people, you and I, one and the same, in the same world, working for the same essential goal.  We're still people, real people, more than just a signature at the bottom of an email.