I start my mornings early, around a 7:30am wakeup – not for any particular reason other than self-discipline. Following this is my morning routine, I clean my room, fold any scattered clothes, and change into my work attire. You know the drill.
I bought a new pair of tan leather boots for work before arriving in Ireland. They were expensive, but I figured they were an investment. The logic being, the act of putting on a pair of new boots, rather than some other pair of shoes you use while out – say – shopping, dignifies the duty before you.
Have you lost respect for a shirt you slept in accidentally? I know I have. There’s subtle meaning one assigns to each item of clothing in your wardrobe. At the gym, for example, I prefer certain shirts on certain days, depending on that day’s workout goal. Maybe a more form fitting black-T that accentuates your shoulder width or arm size or some other measure when training upper-body, for example.
I figure the same thing applies to my boots. They’re not relatively more practical than my hiking shoes for example but I still arbitrate them for separate occasions. Once I’m in my working clothes, the rest of the morning routine passes effortlessly. I arrive at the Luas tramline on time and proceed on my morning commute.
Dublin’s public transport system is fantastic; the transitions between stops are relatively seamless and without mishap. I think this proficiency is reciprocated by the passengers, who obey an unspoken code of decorum; pregnant mothers, families with young children and the elderly are invariably surrendered seating by other passengers; no spec of litter is left in anyone’s wake and a mode of silence is adhered to.
Although my shift begins at 10:30, I arrive 10-15 minutes early. Film company team is a small but efficient skeleton crew. Much as those Luas passengers reciprocate the efficiency of the tramline with orderly behavior, one is compelled to raise one’s own standard of productivity in the presence of such hard workers as this team. Our working space is small but not an inch is wasted. Production equipment is meticulously shelved and ordered. In the empty air of the hallway you are met with a cacophony of signal – the high pace of Oisin’s keyboard keys clacking away editing and scoring video footage, the whirring fan of laptops fiercely transcoding daily footage to external hard-drives, the intersecting voices of the Producers; Julianne, Eithne and Ruth, rehearsing meeting agendas with Cal and David, in a room across, reviewing with sharp eyes the latest draft of the latest script going into production.
Though shy at first, I am compelled to match their energy, their drive and hunger for success. It is soul-affirming to meet like-minded individuals such as these. They all possess a learned modesty. Humble as they are, as a relatively small production team battling for market share in the presence of giants, they manage to punch above their weight, with a bevy of accolades to show for it. They know their niche in the industry and they have a stubborn resolve to maintain in – perhaps thriving on the knowledge that, unlike other larger production companies, there is relatively little to cushion their fall from a lapse in output.
It is in such company that I recognize the value of the investment I made with those boots.