MEMOIR
The Day I Had to Tell Staff a Colleague Died
Have you ever had to be the messenger of the unthinkable?
Our office walls were too thin. Everyone knew it. We’d almost never take private calls at our desks, fearful of eavesdropping office neighbours. But it was often wet and cold outside in the concrete commercial business park in suburban Melbourne, so sometimes we did. I knew the guy in the office next to mine was grappling with credit card debt and dealing with an itchy spreading rash. I could handle knowing that (although I‘d subtly take a wide berth walking past him, just in case), but I was utterly unprepared for the devastating words that wafted through the walls one particular day.
The sun peeked through the windows that morning, casting a warm glow over our cheap office furniture. There was the familiar hum of the air-conditioning, keyboards clicking, printers whirring, and a sense of busy office energy that any other day would be described as, well, just any other day. I remember drinking instant coffee from my chipped mug, mentally listing the day’s tasks. There was a team meeting to prep for, a presentation to finalise, and what felt like a thousand emails to sift through.
But, you know, despite the daily grind and work humdrum, the office always had a comforting predictability…
