4.1 The Waterfront Office

By the end of July 2013, taking advantage of the fasting month, Mauris Bank completed its relocation to the new venue by the waterfront on Marine Drive amidst a showering rain. The ten-storey building was finished in deep maroon and silver, with glass panels soaring by the street corner to afford the upper floors an expansive view of the open sea. Inside, all systems were fully automated; old time cards were replaced by smart cards to regulate access to doors and floors, tracking employee attendance and identities alike.

A resolute coffee corner occupied the fifth floor, a spacious layout known as the conventional floor, which also comprised a large corporate conference room. The servers and networks of the IT Department were secure on the fourth floor while security monitors installed in a room on the third floor. The seventh floor was rooted for Human Resources and Research while the levels above were designated strictly for executives, fitted with private office rooms and personalised bedrooms. The rooftop contained a garden terrace designed to cater for parties and special functions beneath a canopy of pergolas. On the western side of the terrace lay a strip of a swimming pool, split down the middle by a pathway leading towards a galley. The departments of operations were furnished below the fifth floor where Zanat and Idania landed on the second level of Risk Management, which housed the units for Internal Audit, Administration and Treasury—still colloquially called the Cash Department—along with a mess room. Because the entire Board of Executives was foreign, with the exception of Shina, these upper floors could not be accessed by unauthorised personnel.

The intense red of the uniforms categorised the second most important colour of the firm, the first being maroon, while two other tones of teal and silver persisted in the basic corporate palette. The HRM subsequently introduced teal and silver uniforms alongside the red for standard office wear, reserving tailored maroon suits for special occasions. The uniform design was modified to feature a sharp shawl lapel resembling the company logo. Modest clothing was given a distinct preference, as ninety percent of the newer staffers—mostly between their mid-twenties and mid-thirties—wore traditional headscarves and beards. In physical appearance, this younger batch looked noticeably heftier than the senior bunch. With this momentous relocation, Mauris Bank prepared to increase its staff from twenty-six to forty-six by the end of the year.

The halls looked narrow and the cubicles were compact to an extent that Murti’s table stood directly by the entrance door; he could no longer catch a glimpse of a passing pair of legs once inside the threshold. The walls were finished in pinewood, bolstered by sturdy pillars and decorative panels in red. The second-floor tearoom was equipped with a red refrigerator and a red electric kettle, while the furniture and fittings were stark white, contrasted by black chairs and stools. A deep bluish-grey carpet was laid across the floors and LED lights lit the space with the clarity of natural daylight. Because of the glass doors and pinewood panels, the hallways lacked the deep perspective of the old building. Staff members felt locked in constricted cells and only sparsely connected, though the surrounding glass windows brought in ample light from the waterfront.

The new boy in the Cash Department had made quite an impression within his first week on the job but not for productivity. He was a school leaver and still fresh to the etiquettes of the offices. He found his charm in the lady old enough to be his grandma and had been fondling with her all day long.

“Stop doing that!” Zanat hissed.

The tension was broken when three clerks burst into the room.

“That guy from Thai Wok is here with the bill,” Mona said, stepping inside. “He’s not leaving until he gets paid.”

The three girls crowded into Murti’s tiny cubicle, their heavy teal blazers and olive headscarves filling the tight space. Zanat used the confusion to slip behind the desk, standing beside the auditor’s executive chair. Rosa dropped a thick manual ledger with a maroon cover onto the desk, demanding his signature on a stack of urgent cheques. The girls were interested in one specific voucher from a late-night working dinner at Thai Wok. The bill was steep and Rosa had signed it off to the operational account. The restaurant manager had arrived early in the morning to collect his money before the bank’s corporate bureaucracy caused a delay.

Murti could sign anything under 25,000 though in general practice all cheques should get signed by the Financial Manager and he wasn’t in. Neither him or Murti could read what was written in the ledger. They required a translation but not all the time. Invoices were in English and by tallying against the invoice numbers to the entries made in the ledger, they’d know. How to explain this—a night owl. Those were the trivial amounts of cash that caused petty damage to the company. Three girls were in to explain papaya salad and make him sign quickly.

Most of the banks did not require this much of paperwork. However, Mauris Bank continued to practise with traditional ledgers and everything else handwritten—even in Dhivehi script for local auditors.

Zanat stumbled down to the floor between his chair and the panel. Murti felt a thud but it took him a moment to absorb a tangling while other girls laughed. He did not get up and could not see her slouched behind his chair in a pencil skirt and silver blazer. Zanat tried to suspend her arms on the backrest and dangle behind his back. Its sleek rubber made her shoulders slip. Zanat rose to her feet losing her jellies and Murti noticed those legs, “You’re wearing stockings!”

He wished he didn’t let his voice out.

Zanat perched herself on the edge of the desk and brought up a knee, wearing beige nylon stockings. Her toenails painted red that could be seen in the foothold.

“Oh, you don’t like purdah?” she teased.

Murti felt a tension of misperception and alarm, he took his eyes away to sign that damn cheque.