Broken Code

Part 4

I'm slowly settling into the office and getting to know my colleagues. It turns out they're not as reserved as I initially thought. We have a cosy break corner decked out with potted palms and a jumble of colourful beanbags. It's a space where coffee flows freely, and conversations reveal the true personalities behind the keyboards.

My manager, Alex, is impossible to miss. A Polish man with a penchant for wearing the loudest, quirkiest T-shirts imaginable. One day, it's a giant daisy; the next, a grinning avocado. His wardrobe never fails to elicit chuckles, which is precisely the point. "Tech's already too grey and serious," he says, bringing a splash of colour to our days.

Then there's Jamil, the sysadmin, whose wit is as sharp as his technical skills. Somehow, he's immune to the stress that surrounds his critical role. Everyone knows the entire infrastructure could crumble if he so much as takes a moment's break. By contrast, Paul is calm and composed—until the topic of music or travel comes up. Then, he lights up like a teenager, full of enthusiasm and stories.

Our break area is more than a coffee spot. It's where we exchange tales of concerts, festivals, and weekend adventures. Just last weekend, a group of us ventured out to Treptow Park for a picnic, and it felt like a slice of normal life amidst our coding chaos.

These conversations have transformed my perspective on this team. They aren't driven by envy or competition. Instead, they're supportive, quick to offer advice, or share a laugh. I've learned more professionally here than I did during two years at the academy.

We even have a virtual office chat that serves as a hub for questions, advice, or just a bit of banter. At first, I hesitated to join in, feeling like an outsider. But soon, I realised it was more than just a work tool. It's like a digital café—a space for light-hearted chats, sharing news, and cracking jokes. It's where the office feels most human.

The longer I stay, the more at home I feel with these people.