Jonas Karlsson - The Room

For the time being there was nothing I could say. He could manage or mismanage his desk however he liked as long as he kept to his side. There were still a few centimetres left as yet. Almost a decimetre. What could I say?

I looked at the time. There were still about twenty-five minutes left of my fifty-five-minute period, but my rhythm had been disturbed. I would just have to regard the rest of the period as lost.

At the same time, I realised that now that the thought of what was going to happen with Håkan’s and my desks had arisen, it was going to be very hard to let go of. It would be there as a point of friction, and was bound to unsettle me. Maybe it would be just as well to deal with the confrontation at once, seeing as I now, in a manner of speaking, had some time to spare? At some point Håkan would have to learn to put things away before he started on something new. Not just push it away and assume that it would disappear by itself. Maybe it made sense to make him aware of that without delay?

I got up quickly. Walked behind my chair and stood there with my arms leaning on it. Took three deep breaths. Håkan looked at me and smiled a quick, false smile that was probably meant to look polite. I spun the chair gently, back and forth, as I looked at his papers.

I was very conscious of the fact that this was properly a matter for management. Efficiency savings of this sort and solutions to potential collegial conflicts ought to be dealt with by an alert and engaged boss.

An attentive and empathetic leader would naturally have noticed the fissure that was on its way to breaking out within the ranks, and would have done something about it. Rather than waste time picking on the more alert members of staff about shoe-covers.

But perhaps I recognised that Karl really did not possess those qualities? Perhaps I recognised even then that he wasn’t management material, and that one day I instead would be taking control of this department? Perhaps this was the first step? Perhaps this was exactly the right opportunity for a rebuke?

‘Håkan,’ I said in a friendly but firm voice.

‘Yes,’ he said, looking up at me as if I were interrupting him in the middle of something important.

‘Have you got a minute?’

He nodded.

I stretched, sucked in a deep breath through my nose and let it out of my mouth in small puffs as I contemplated what tactics to employ.

‘Look around you,’ I said eventually.

‘Yes?’ he said.

‘What do you see?’

He said nothing for a short while as he looked around.

‘No, I don’t know …’

He went back to looking at his screen.

‘I’d prefer us to deal with this at once,’ I said.

‘With what? What do you mean?’ he said, suddenly irritated.

I fixed my gaze on him and said in a calm and friendly voice: ‘Before this gets out of hand, I’d like you to listen to me. I’m sure you’ll see what I mean.’

He looked at me with the tired, ignorant, slightly stupid expression that is so common in people who aren’t used to seeing the broader picture in small things.

‘Let’s take a walk,’ I said, leading him round the lift and into the little room. I thought it best to deal with this in private, so that we could talk without being interrupted.

Inside the room the air was fresh and cool. I closed the door behind us and stood in front of the mirror with my arm on the filing cabinet. The light in the room definitely made Håkan look worse, while I glanced in the mirror and confirmed that I had retained the same crispness as last time. The man in the mirror was able to smile. He looked relaxed and spoke with a calm, deep voice.

‘There’s something I’ve noticed,’ I said.

‘Yes?’ Håkan said, looking round as if he’d never seen this room before. Perhaps he hadn’t. He didn’t seem to be particularly observant. Poor fellow, in just a couple of weeks my local knowledge had already surpassed his.

I decided to get straight to the point and if possible get back in time for the next fifty-five-minute period.

‘You don’t put your old files back when you take out new ones,’ I said.

‘What did you say?’ Håkan said.

‘I said I’ve noticed that you’re letting your papers spread out across your desk. Soon they’ll be on my side, and then you’ll be encroaching on my space. I am, as I’m sure you can appreciate, keen to have full access to the whole of my desk. I am already inconvenienced by the disproportionately large computer that takes up about a third of the space, it really ought to be possible to procure a system with more modern, smaller terminals, but never mind that, that isn’t your responsibility. I would just like you to adopt new habits that don’t risk disturbing my work. Do you understand?’

Håkan looked at me in surprise, as if he had been expecting something completely different. Perhaps he thought I had something private to say? Maybe he thought we had come in here to discuss personal matters? I felt a momentary satisfaction at having so quickly and concisely clarified the problem to him, presenting my demands without a lot of introductory small talk. Now the ball was in his court and he had little option but to accept my terms. After all, my wishes were in no way unreasonable. Sure enough, he made a slight nod.

‘Good,’ I said. ‘Well, I suggest we get back to our duties, and if everything goes smoothly we need never mention this again.’

I smiled at him, opened the door and stepped out. Håkan followed me and we both went and sat down. He had a dried, white stain on his shirt, high up on one side of his chest. I noted that he sat and looked at me for a long while after we had returned to our places. Without doing anything about his papers. I let him. Things need time to settle, I thought. Eventually the message would get through to him and hopefully lead to a more proactive way of dealing with his things. Presumably he wasn’t used to being reprimanded in such a clear and effective way. You might as well get used to it, I thought. I might very well end up as your boss one day.

I leaned across the desk and whispered: ‘Don’t think of it as a reprimand. More as an observation.’

‘What?’ he said, and I realised that he was playing along in our tacit understanding to let this stay between us. I nodded, leaned back, and mimed zipping my mouth shut, then locking it and throwing away the key.

That night I went through my reprimand sentence by sentence, word for word, and it got better each time.

I put on a CD of Mozart’s twenty-first piano concerto, but soon swapped it for one of Sting’s albums, only to switch to Dire Straits and then John Cougar Mellencamp. I didn’t really feel like listening to any of them, but liked the idea of associating with the very best.

I went over to the window sill in the living room and looked down at the courtyard. It was getting more and more like winter out there. The ground was already white and even more snowflakes were dancing in the light of the lamp-posts. I rolled my head a little to massage my neck, and counted the windows in the building opposite.

As I was about to go to bed I noticed my briefcase leaning against the wall. On the outside was a Post-it note. The glue had probably already left a mark on the leather.

The fifth time I went into the room there was no reason at all. I had successfully completed my fifty-five-minute period of concentrated and undisturbed work, and felt no need of coffee or a trip to the toilet. I just went to the room because I liked it, and found a certain satisfaction in being in there.