What thoughts may come to him, while looking through the window?
Staring at us in our warm and comfortable cubicles, protected by rain and wind behind a curtain of soapy water and a soundproof glass shield. He might consider us fortunate, for being able to chat on the phone or with each other with our mugs filled with hot coffee, so inviting, next to the keyboard. He might even consider us worthy of this secure working place, blaming himself for not having been able to be considered capable of a job as dully secure as ours.
On the other hand he may not be thinking of us at all from this aspect. Perhaps the reflecting window and the prismatic layers of lather are not sufficient to hide our weary faces after Wednesdays' meetings. Or the way we look back at him, pretending compassion simply to hide our guiltily envying him for being able to whistle while working.
When the only thing we can do is jokes about computers...
PS. This post owes its existence to a conversation I had with Flip looking at one of the window cleaners of our own building and its title to Elbow's brilliant "Loneliness of the tower-crane driver"
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