Saturday, 4 September 2010

There are no words...

Yesterday some bloke at work flung himself off the third floor of the open plan atrium. That's a very long drop straight onto hard marble floors. They say he died instantly.

Luckily, I was spared the sight but a couple of my colleagues saw it happen. The 52-year-old wasn't known to us (not unusual when you consider that around 3,000 people are employed at my company) and was said to have been on stress leave for some time. But the spot where he chose to die is close to a bookshop, bank and escalators that ferry hundreds of people daily to a cafe, gym and the back door. Not sure if his choice of location was a strategic decision or not.

It's no secret the organisation I contract to is currently shedding large tracts of its business, meaning the threat of redundancy is high. Plus, the headline act in the UK is still the Recession, so there are even more unemployed, cash-strapped and stressed folk around than I have ever had the misfortune to encounter. I've only worked here for three months and already I've come across two women crying in the loos. It's fair to say it isn't a terribly happy place to work.

No-one's quite sure of the reasons for this poor bloke's decision to end it all one warm Thursday afternoon – and maybe we will never know why. Understandably, though, it has caused much freaking out amongst the general populace. I can't imagine what it would be like to be innocently using the cash machine, or waiting for a coffee, and see a man hurtle to his death. Just the thought of it makes the hairs on my neck stand on end. Fortunately, we are moving buildings at the end of this month (into the CBD - yay!) because today the place just seemed to echo with sadness.

(Pic: Google Images)

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