Tuesday, February 27, 2007

27 February 2007

When I was working at the law firm in New York, new associates shared offices with one other associate for a few months before graduating to our own private offices. These spaces, though small and identical, were our own, and we all felt entitled to have them all to ourselves. It was a bit of a surprise, then, when I came to Switzerland and discovered that like most other offices in Switzerland, my office put several people in each (admittedly larger) room. I did some scouting and found out that other friends - engineers, bankers, and consultants – sat in open-plan spaces, sometimes with over a dozen other people.

So I figured, when in (a much cleaner and smaller version of) Rome, do as the Romans (or Swiss) do. I’ve gotten used to sharing office space. When my officemate is sick or on vacation, I have the entire office to myself (well, to myself and my dog, if he’s at work that day), a fact that I much appreciated during the adjustment period. Now, though, it almost gives me the heebie-jeebies. After sharing an office here for almost three years, at one point with three other people, it feels very strange to be alone in the room. Whatever I end up doing next, if it involves my own office and no dogs, it will feel quite foreign, even though that describes pretty much every job I ever pictured myself taking before I moved here.

Speaking of Swiss offices, one strange thing that I’ve learned is that most people working in Swiss offices bring their own personal mug to store in the cabinet in the communal office kitchen. It can be anything, a Starbuck’s mug, a mug with the person’s name on it, a plain mug, but somehow it is clear that no one else should touch that mug. My office, being very international, only partially follows that policy – some people bring in their own mugs, and some people just lay claim to mugs that don’t seem to belong to anyone in particular. In other offices, however, the Rule of the Mug is taken very seriously.

One of my friends, shortly after starting her job at a Swiss company, used a mug from the kitchen cabinet during coffee break, not knowing that that mug belonged to someone. That someone quickly confronted her (and here we thought that the Swiss were so placid, so non-confrontational, so… neutral), and berated her for using his mug. In fact, he continued to berate her even after several apologies and promises never to violate his God-given mug rights again.

As you probably know, last Tuesday was Mardi Gras, which is celebrated and called Fasnacht in the Catholic parts of Switzerland. The typical Fasnacht celebration is family-friendly, and involves marching bands, costumes, and confetti, and, while quite a spectacle, would probably be a bit of a disappointment to beer-guzzling frat boys picturing a live version of Girls Gone Wild.

The Swiss, ever practical, stagger their Fasnacht celebrations by city, so that the major Fasnacht parades and parties don’t conflict with each other. Basel, for instance, is having its big Fasnacht parade tonight, a week after Mardi Gras, when true Catholics are supposed to be done partying and firmly in the midst of Lenten self-deprivation. No other way to do it though, until they find a way for several dozen marching bands to be in multiple places at the same time.

Zurich celebrated Fasnacht last weekend, so my apartment, which is situated in prime parade territory, was, er, serenaded all weekend with the discordant strains of Guggenmusik (what the marching bands play for Fasnacht, which is probably Swiss German for "Oh my God, do they really call that music?") played, at one point, by people dressed as large yellow chickens.

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