Office atmosphere.

Prompts gave me another set of words:
Typewriter, filing cabinet, puncher, clerk, carbon paper, janitor.

In 'office' atmosphere I am there for the past 31+ years. ‌ Typewriters are obsolete things now. I loved typewriters and very much loved the 'electronic type writer' - say some 30 years back. ‌ I owned a typewriter for a few months though I did not type much.
I have clerks under me now, they are called assistants and it is quite irksome to do clerical works some times. ‌ I ask my clerks to punch holes in papers to file them. ‌ Some times I am in so much hurry that I can't wait for my assistants to take the puncher and punch a hole for me!
I remember the filing cabinet room in the personnel department of the automobile industry I worked three decades ago. I was so curious to read the personal data of people working there and particularly the females. (wink)
Carbon paper is another outdated stuff. But I do ‌ remember the Railway receipts and letters I have written using Railway carbon paper.

I come to the word 'Janitor' now and to the present times. I consider 'Sanju' our office boy as the best Janitor.

Comments

The Big Bang Theory.

S8E1 #tbbt Sheldon visits New York, Arizona....some American cities using Train 🚆 The fun part is he never goes inside the cities. He remains in the train and at Railway Stations 🚉 He is robbed including his pants. He can’t fix himself to change in life. He calls Leonard. — Girmit (^‿^) (@cgBalu) March 24, 2019

66 😎

66. A number that once sounded distant. Now it sits quietly beside me, sipping morning air. This is not a fitness routine. This is not a medical prescription. This is a conversation with the body, before the world starts talking. Minute 0–2: Waking Up Without Arguments I don’t jump out of bed. I negotiate. A slow turn. Feet touch the floor. The hips complain softly — not rebellion, just a reminder: “Ease into the day.” I smile. We’ve known each other long enough. Minute 3–6: Gentle Movements — No Heroics A few knee bends near the wall. Hip circles — small, like drawing commas in the air. Marching in place, as if I’m late for nothing. This is not exercise. This is oiling old hinges. The body responds politely. Minute 7–11: Walking — The Best Medicine Slow. Then moderate. If the weather is kind and yesterday’s dinner was lighter, I allow myself a gentle upward slope. No speed targets. No apps judging me. Just footsteps, breath, and that quiet joy of still being able to move forward. Minu...

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