October 12, 1965
The lobby, as usual, smelled like a mixture of Old Spice, cheap and expensive perfumes, detergent and beneath it all, urine.
An brief gust from the outside, vehicle choked roadway, introduced the smell of grease and exhaust.
Paul McPherson was unremarkable by any and all definitions.
He awoke one day at the age of 38 and realized he had no plan and wasn't entirely sure who Paul McPherson was.
The rotating door belched him into the lobby of 30 Rockefeller Ave.
Paul nods to the elevator attendant and switches and empty briefcase from his right hand to his left.
He does this to occupy 2.5 seconds.
The elevator will travel to the 60th floor in around 39.2 seconds.
Paul now has roughly 35 seconds to decide who he is today.
The number 60 glows on the elevator panel and a cheerful "ding" signals the extension of the last 364
days.
He nods to the attendant, his name is Joshua or James, and enters the endless rectangular fluorescence of his "bread and butter".
His office is 48 overhead lights straight on, 38 IBM Selectric typewriters, 3 "good mornings", 2 "did you see the game?"'s and 1 "what happened to you?" and an abrupt left turn.
His office door is solid oak and closes with an indescribably satisfying "clack".
In 2 minutes and 38 seconds his secretary will knock, bring him a cup of coffee and exit silently.
In 4 minutes and 58 seconds Paul will push back his chair, turn towards his office window, high above New York, and will make a decision.
There are 15 items left unresolved on his desk.
The lobby, as usual, smelled like a mixture of Old Spice, cheap and expensive perfumes, detergent and beneath it all, urine.
An brief gust from the outside, vehicle choked roadway, introduced the smell of grease and exhaust.
Paul McPherson was unremarkable by any and all definitions.
He awoke one day at the age of 38 and realized he had no plan and wasn't entirely sure who Paul McPherson was.
The rotating door belched him into the lobby of 30 Rockefeller Ave.
Paul nods to the elevator attendant and switches and empty briefcase from his right hand to his left.
He does this to occupy 2.5 seconds.
The elevator will travel to the 60th floor in around 39.2 seconds.
Paul now has roughly 35 seconds to decide who he is today.
The number 60 glows on the elevator panel and a cheerful "ding" signals the extension of the last 364
He nods to the attendant, his name is Joshua or James, and enters the endless rectangular fluorescence of his "bread and butter".
His office is 48 overhead lights straight on, 38 IBM Selectric typewriters, 3 "good mornings", 2 "did you see the game?"'s and 1 "what happened to you?" and an abrupt left turn.
His office door is solid oak and closes with an indescribably satisfying "clack".
In 2 minutes and 38 seconds his secretary will knock, bring him a cup of coffee and exit silently.
In 4 minutes and 58 seconds Paul will push back his chair, turn towards his office window, high above New York, and will make a decision.
There are 15 items left unresolved on his desk.
