20 Children May Not Play Together for 20 Years
It wasn’t until I took my sit at the back corner of the cafeteria and looked around in the usual way that I realized what the pandemic had really done. I recognized no one. I had gone from saying “Hi” all the way to the lunch line to avoiding the awkward eye contact with co-workers who quite frankly seemed like strange bedfellows. It is true that work had resumed as usual more than a year now but I hadn’t fully grasped the nature of the new reality, particularly the ramifications of the pandemic on the social structure at work. I had mastered the act of working on the theory at home or more precisely “remotely” and had restricted my time on campus to what was required at the mechanical testing laboratory.
I ordered spicy chicken nuggets and medium fries, my usual choice when eating with friends even though I was alone. It was a sentimental choice, I was feeling nostalgic, my mind was filled with memories of the many afternoons that I have spent in this very same place in the company of colleagues who had become friends but had now left the company to explore other opportunities since the pandemic sent shock waves rippling through our lives like a nuclear explosion at sea. I drifted into a reverie as the cafeteria attendant poured the fries on a plate and rambled around the kitchen for the nuggets, and whilst lost in the reverie, I raised a glass in honor of my old team members like Jimmy in “Boardwalk Empire” and uttered “To the lost!”. I was jolted back to reality when the cafeteria attendant pointed in the direction of the cash register and I knew it was time to pay for the food. It is worth mentioning that new team members were promptly installed after each departure and productivity regressed towards the mean shortly afterwards. However, the social connections had been harder to develop due to sporadic and infrequent in-person team meetings. As I walked to the back corner, to settle into our usual spot, I felt more estranged from the norm in that moment than on my first day, five years earlier. With every bite, I realized that the cafeteria attendant might have misunderstood my request for “spicy” as “not spicy”, as the food lacked the expected flavor. Despite the disappointment, I felt hesitant to return my food as I was uncomfortable asserting myself among strangers. I have often been told that I am a “people pleaser” because I am naturally disinclined to conflict. It couldn’t be worse except for the time when I ate lunch alongside a swarm of flies at an outdoor canteen in the area called “Agege” in Lagos, Nigeria.
The incessant chatter, the sudden outburst of laughter and the chuckling around me deepened the sense of isolation. Solo eaters were out of favor, most people were eating in a group and seemed at least on the surface, to be having a good time. The cafeteria hummed like it was 2019 again, like the pandemic lightening had never struck. As I sat alone in my corner in this post pandemic rendition of the campus cafeteria social dimension, surreptitiously observing the new groups that had emerged, like D.H. Lawrence, I raced down the vista of years till I was sitting across the table from my old colleagues; engineers and applied scientists arguing over some obscure topic and making jokes at each other’s expense.
I tossed the rest of my food and decided to take the long route back to the technology center so I could steady my emotions. I immediately tried to meditate but it turns out that meditation is no match for nostalgia, at least not like the one that overwhelmed me as I walked ever so slowly as if I feared an imminent end. First, I wondered what stories my closest collaborators told about me at their new labs and adventures, or maybe I wasn’t as remarkable as I thought and they told no stories at all. Then my focus narrowed to the latest departure, a critical member of the team who I had always introduced as the “person at the end of my favorite 917 number” because of the energy and the passion they brought to the work and the impact it had on everyone. I was moved by the memory of the time we spent the entire lunch debating the correct approach to solving an exercise on rigid body dynamics and how much I missed my mind being constantly stimulated and challenged. I realized in that moment that the proverbial camel’s back had been broken.
In the Yoruba culture, there is a saying that loosely translates to “20 children may not play together for 20 years” but I find that time to be much shorter in practice. I concluded that any two children could carry on the legacy of the fold and that the true weight of that aphorism is never truly realized except by one. Either the one left standing in place or the one separated unwillingly from the fold. I sighed openly but thankfully no one noticed. I had finally reached the main entrance of the technology center and as I read the sign probably for the thousandth time, I recalled the interview of Dyson Freeman, the famed Physicist, describing his friendship with Richard Feynman and Hans Bethe, particularly how the passing of the years did nothing but reinforce those sentiments. I hoped that I am remembered, at least a little, by my esteemed colleagues who have found other pastures, maybe greener ones. I pondered sending messages to all my old collaborators on LinkedIn to gauge their reaction. Thankfully, I decided that this was a bad idea.
By the time I arrived at my desk, my motivation was in the toilet. Usually in moments like these, I dial my favorite 917 number, to seek encouragement and talk through some outstanding theoretical problems but now I must look to the new team members to bring both enthusiasm and the much needed fresh perspective. A short while later, as I turned in my resignation, I thought maybe one day I will dial my favorite 917 number again and reconnect with the past.
