You trot after Norman as he leads you around the hall. Two forklift drivers accompany your group, disappearing between the shelves, popping up again at the end of an aisle, blocking the way, joking around with Norman, who sends them away: Haven’t you got anything better to do?

Not much up today, one of them says.

I’ve got plenty to do though, Norman says.

You watch your working time melt away, but you also register with interest that working time is allowed to simply melt away at Amazon, that there isn’t a light that goes on some place in the company to signal wasted working time to a supervisor and order immediate countermeasures. So this is what you make a mental note of: between the shelves, in the empty halls, beyond the lead desks, outside of the glass container they want to demolish soon, where the more important bosses and planners sit at their desks, working time is allowed to melt away; there are places where you can be slow.