dying embers of tradition
"I need to call three more clients about that apartment," – Alice was thinking when a colleague from the other end of the office called her for a quick smoke break. On the greenish balcony of the massive business center, the girls were discussing everything under the sun until their conversation unexpectedly took an unusual turn.
— Tell me, what would you want to do for work if you had endless money? – Wendy asked.
— I don't know... Haven't really had time to think about it. With such a workload, there's no time for daydreaming, – Alice replied with a hint of sadness.
— You know, – Wendy continued, leaning against the railing, – my grandmother told me that her mother was a weaver in a small village. Every villager would ask her to weave something, and each piece was special, unlike any other. It's hard to imagine such work now – everything's reduced to mass production.
— What's so surprising about that?
— Well... Back then, such crafts weren't just about making money. It was part of life, culture. Each item held its own story, had soul poured into it. Now everything's measured by speed and money. – Wendy smiled wryly.
— You think much has changed? – Alice asked, feeling an unexpected pang of melancholy.
— Everything has changed, Allie, absolutely everything. Our ancestors lived in communities, each person was important and irreplaceable. Now we only have numbers – KPIs and sales targets. We don't create anything real anymore – we just process information, – Wendy stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. – Think about it: back then, my great-grandmother could feed her family with just her hands. But we're helpless without laptops and internet.
Alice remained silent, staring into the distance through the panoramic window of the business center. Images flashed through her mind: an old weaving loom, folds of soft fabric, weathered hands... Something important was being lost, disappearing forever, but she couldn't quite grasp what it was.
— Come on, – Wendy interrupted her thoughts, – meeting in ten minutes.
Alice nodded, but her thoughts were still wandering far beyond the office walls...