An Endless Caffè

While based on true experiences, any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

While years ago an office was by definition a place, these days, because of the hybrid working model and that people you meet colleagues could very well be just remote bits and bytes, it's harder to come across a host of interesting characters that you would have likely encountered in a physical place.

I still get a good laugh when I recall the antics of a particular person at my place of work, as if it were all happening in slow motion. Are such characters common place or one of kind to only be found in Italy? Who knows. Let yourself imaginary eyes follow the tale.

It was a time when large multinationals were a special breed and with an aura of prestige. The office would be comparable to today's innovation technology centers, a place with technical professionals and other business development roles. The place was a low slung modern style building with a steel and glass facade, and an outdoor car park with enough spaces for everyone, something that was an absolute rarity but possible because of being on the outskirts of town. Although we were exempt employees we still used a badge system to show that we were "present" for day. Such was the labor law legislation. Security was more of a lip service although this changed after the war in the Gulf. The building actually had four floors but one was the underground level that was home to the IT mainframe since PCs had yet to become mainstream. Managers and top professionals had their own office while everyone else was distributed to maybe three or four desks to a room.

Being Italy, coffee, more aptly referred to as caffè, was a fundamental cornerstone of office relationships and common courtesy. It was a form of work life balance within the daily grind of the work day of white collar workers. Each floor had their own areas designated for the caffè as it served from what was already a rather sophisticated coffee vending machine of the time, capable of producing the more typical variations demanded by Italians, how strong or diluted, how sweet, with or without milk, and not least of all, whether it would work properly or one just ended up with an empty cup. Certainly not the typical American filtered drip coffee pot. Actually the vending machine was the last choice because typically people would go to an outside place for caffè for the break, but seeing that the office was somewhat isolated without a place to be found in close proximity, this was a compromise that made more sense. Smoking was permitted and indeed the air was constantly afoul with a dense smoke from the cigarettes and occasional pipe smoker. It was so thick I always thought one could cut it with a pair scissors. The break area room for caffè was always rather busy and the smoke was at its worst.

Towards the opposite end of my hallway, was the room where Filippo GarbaDiolini worked, or at least that's where he had his desk. With a name like this you couldn't be blamed if you thought he was your stereotypical aristocrat or from some wealthy lineage, that he was probably refined with a certain flair, and that there was a degree of seriousness and integrity.

Filippo appeared to be middle aged with clumps of greying hair, all of it of unequal length, creating all sort of waves and curls. Maybe it was a bit on the Einstein side with the disheveled look, I suppose he never bothered to comb it. The face was equally rough with days old stubble that you could literally imagine as rough as grit sandpaper While he did not give the impression of a particularly large man, Filippo never really stood upright to his full height, just enough to be looking down at someone. Maybe a hint of a belly by age and weight. It was really hard to say as he dressed much like a mad scientist. He preferred linen type shirts that weren't ironed and he had the tails tucked in just so they wouldn't be flapping around, much like the tuck that shirts have towards the end of long day. One could say he was straight looker as he never shied away from looking at anyone in the eyes.

If you could find Filippo at his desk, he most certainly was on the phone. The question though would be - why would someone go look for him? What was Filippo's job? He always had a cigarette in his mouth, lit or unlit. If you saw Filippo walking in the hallway, there only two possible reasons. If he had stack of manila folders under his arm, it meant he was either leaving the office or just coming to the office. Which of the two didn't necessarily correspond to the time or period of the day. He could be at the office for the entire day, although this was rare, or he was in for the morning, or in for the afternoon. The badging system was more of an honor system for exempt employees, so if he made it once for the day, it probably worked well enough. Though I never saw nor was I curious enough, I suppose Filippo had ways to leave his badge with others to take care of it if he really needed to be absent for any length of time, like someone watering plants for you. The other reason was because he was off to the coffee break area, most likely accompanied by an office colleague. Filippo was always a smooth talker and he could literally spend hours at the coffee vending machine. How or why?

At some point Filippo would arrive, the time and even the day wasn't certain, it was as if it was at his discretion although flex hours wasn't even yet in its infancy, he would have his manila folders under his arms, and his first objective was to put them down on his desk. Once that was sorted out, the next order of business was for caffé.

"Prendere il caffé" is literally translated as having a coffee, but the "prendere" or having really means all that it is part of a ritual, that first and foremost it is a shared and convivial moment, never to really be just the act of consuming a caffè. Filippo did share his office room with other colleagues, but he had a long standing grudging acceptance that a caffé with them would be a rare occurrence. Filippo would step into the hallway sauntering towards the coffee break area and he would have an unlit cigarette in his mouth. The hallway led to many rooms on either side. It was as if Filippo could magically sense when someone would step out of the room into the hallway and come in his direction. Maybe some people actually gave a peek into the hallway to see if Filippo was in the vicinity and that would be enough of a warning to retreat back into the office. If not Filippo had his prey. As the person approached, Filippo would simply ask "do you have a light?" and sure enough matches or a lighter would materialize. Better yet the person could already be smoking. Once lighted Filippo would quickly respond with "Thanks, and let me offer you a caffé". Common courtesy meant that the reply wasn't "thank you" but rather "No no, let me offer". The trap had been masterfully set and executed. His cigarette was lit, he was going for caffé with someone, and he didn't even have to pay.

Having caffè, whether from a vending machine or not, was never just the coffee, it was the time to chit chat on just about anything with the exclusion of work related. Filippo was a master at this. He could probably earn a doctorate degree for the vast amount of topics and gossips he could entertain. Don't get me wrong though, none of what he ever said really had any real value. On some of the more not so common topics he was bound to be rather creative and you really never knew how much of it was factual or just an embellishment to keep you entertained. If even you really didn't want to say something that would lead Filippo into a discussion, he was never at a loss and never let the moment recede into silence. He would simply start something on an obscure subject, just enough so that he could end the phrase with "did you hear about when (or why) (related to the topic)?" and it was likely your head was still trying to come to grasp with what the topic was really about. Before you got your wits together, Filippo would have already intreceded with an Italian "Come?" which isn't just "How or why" but rather the more expansive connotation of - how is it possible the someone of your experience and intelligence knows so little about this? You should know that... - and now your were locked into a monologue for the next 10 or 15 mins. A caffè, a smoke, and a convivial chit chat of sorts could hardly be less than 15 mins. It's easy to imagine an entire morning or afternoon between several caffè and a couple of calls.

The colleague most certainly didn't mind a caffé and even a chit chat to along. But at some point work beckoned and returning to the desk was desirable. Unfortunately Filippo would have been fine to just continue as is. It became a matter of reciprocal timing in how opportunities are captured. Filippo could tell when his colleague had had enough, the telltale fidgeting and sense of distraction. The window of opportunity was limited but probability was on his side. Being a convivial spot, there were bound to be people who would simply come to join those already there. Filippo was always on the lookout with the corner of his eye on the person who would walk in alone. I don't know if Filippo ever cared to learn the names of everyone, but he was the master as one who could simply catch the attention of the person by simply saying "Look who's here!!" as if he hadn't seen the person in ages. By common courtesy the only response possible was "Oh hi Filippo", to which Filippo quickly responded with "Let me offer you a caffé", and so the cycle restarts - "No no, allow me!". In these few seconds, the other colleague, who by now was exhausted, saw his opening, excuse me, his perfect exit. He could simply say "have a great day Filippo", while quickly stepping away, maybe noticing the slight anguish of the other colleague now immersed in the chit chat with Filippo. If it wasn't caffé it was getting a cigarette. Round and round this went until Filippo needed to go back to his desk so he could make phone calls.

I'd call it the magic of the shuffle. How Filippo moved between one person to the next seamlessly and nobody ended the worse for it Most really didn't mind if they spent time chit chatting with Filippo over caffè, I suppose they thought he was harmless enough. Filippo may have been wrapped up in his own world, but he certainly knew exactly the fine line he had to walk between entertaining and butting heads with anyone when touching any potential controversial topic. This was Italy after all. Everyone is ready to voice their opinion and take a stance just for the sake of discussion. It's the underlying reasons why talk shows abound, and the ongoing discussions go on endlessly. The office wasn't an abstract nor an infinite world. The number of people present was constant. Who was there exactly was also a constant. Filippo knew precisely the habit each person from the perspective of when and how may caffè they would have, who smoked, who chit chatted more and who less, he had it all down to a science.

I was probably the rare exception. I don't drink, I don't smoke, and I never took a liking to caffè, let alone coffee and chocolate of any sorts. I'd be happy to join friends at the break area and maybe in a while I'd have a tea if I had a sugar craving. Maybe Filippo didn't feel it was a fair deal to include me on his sorties, so we would simply smile at each other.

You would think that the manila files Filippo carried contain project documents and the likes, but not all. You see, that Filippo had a job was probably just a front for tax purposes. The Italian tax agency isn't as efficient as the US IRS and certainly might not be as thorough. If they audit anyone, they will focus on people who run their own business rather than some regular full time employee. It was rumored that Filippo's manila folders actually had all his paperwork for the stocks he traded, on the international exchanges nonetheless. At a time when internet didn't yet exist, Filippo conducted all his transactions with calls to his brokers, who worked on the international stock exchanges. Filippo's job was the perfect cover. His role expected him to communicate with colleagues in the US and other parts of the world, and so his phone was enabled for direct international calls, and each call didn't have to be uniquely justified. It wasn't an era where cost cutting was a daily exercise and where any activity would be subject to close scrutiny.

In subsequent years I met other characters who had their own little realities in the office space, but Filippo remains the most intriguing one. I can't even think of one single activity that he did, or participated in some meeting, that had any benefit to a project or a team. He wasn't involved in any of my projects so maybe my perspective was limited. He was there and he was there more like a ghost, floating in and out of different spaces, appearing to people at propitious times. If anything, Filippo was very predictable on what he could or would do - mind his own business, enjoy caffè at his own leisure and mostly paid by others, smoke incessantly with the help of cigarettes offered by others, and if not, constantly on the phone.

In some ways he reminds me of an amusing anecdote about how things work in Naples. A man gets on the bus. He's well dressed and groomed, taking his hat off to the ladies as expected of a gentlemen. He sits down and glances at the passenger opposite of him. This passenger had been minding his own business as he had been reading his newspaper, and hadn't really noticed the man. The man says to the passenger reading the newspaper "Good morning, would you mind?" while pointing to the newspaper. The passenger looks up and without really thinking about it too much, folds the newspaper and hands it to the man. The man looks a the front page intensely and after a moment, opens to the first spread, then the second spread. In the meantime the passenger begins to fidget as he wonders what the man is looking for and can't seem to find. Time passes, the bus makes a couple of stops, but the man is still looking at the newspaper. Upon reaching the last page, he folds it neatly without any sign of misuse, and as he gets up, he holds it out to the passenger saying "thank you very much sir, most indebted" and before the passenger can think of an appropriate response, the man has alighted from the bus.