By the end of the first week of work, I’m beginning to feel as if I’m settling into my temporary home and also my new working routine. I’ve been blessed with a good working environment, willing recruits and support staff who get things done.

By Friday morning, Andy has the first of our office spaces ready to use. He has somehow managed to get eight desks comfortably into the space. The phone systems are hooked up and new computers are ready. When he calls on me as I arrive to show me how they are progressing, I’m more than impressed.

“This is great,” I tell him honestly. “The only change I’d make is to provide two screens for each station if you can?” There’s a great benefit in being able to see the screen of the person you are helping and also keep notes open.

“Probably not until Monday,” he replies. “I know we didn’t talk about it beforehand, but I assumed that would be what you wanted. Our supplier simply didn’t have enough in stock and is waiting for the next shipment that should be with them today.”

“Will that allow you to equip the other offices next week, then?”

“Yes, Will, I hope so. We are going to do all three rooms the same as this one. That will give you some spare desks without needing to hot-swop.”

“Perfect. I don’t want to hot-desk unless we grow quite a bit more. Twenty-four stations for our current staff of twenty should work well.” Much more important, with us running out of lecture materials, is the fact that I can get some people hands-on with the systems next week.

I had been given extensive details about the office’s intended workload and the hours that were to be expected. In theory, the two shifts would cover from before dawn to after dusk and a nominal requirement for eight desks to be working each weekday would mean that there was plenty of cover for the occasional sickness or scheduled vacations.

My plan was to spread them all between the three office rooms. Handing off calls to my designated experts, who might be in a different office, would keep the team cohesive for whoever ended up in charge. I truly hate the idea of hot-desking, but I can see that if the operation grows, this might become a necessity.

More often than not, there are three or four of us in the vehicle each day, most of us keeping the same nominal nine-to-five office hours. Either Joseph or Martin are our usual drivers, but there are a couple of others who seem to only be part-time.

Martin is very business-like and trying to get him to be even a little less formal is a wasted effort. He has finally got as far as calling me Will, but even that seems like a real effort for him to make. He even sometimes seems to struggle to talk to one of the women. There’s just something a little parochial about him, even though he always has a smile and a few words if pushed.

Joseph, however, is a lot more easy-going once he allows himself to relax. Perhaps it is because he is a few years younger than his colleague and therefore generally more progressive in his life outlook. I don’t know, but I find myself feeling a little lighter and more relaxed when he is driving us.

There’s a full vehicle for our Friday evening drive home. Nobody is working late tonight and it seems that we are all looking forward to the weekend. I can’t think why, as I have nothing to do other than probably sit and code.

The consensus, however, is that we are all going to eat in the restaurant tonight and have a few beers. I’m happy to fall in with my colleagues, but I do want to cook for myself over the weekend and will certainly need to replenish my small larder.

“Joseph, will it be possible to go to the supermarket, either today or in the morning?” I ask before we reach our turn-off to leave the highway.

“Today will be better,” he replies before making a more general enquiry. “Does anybody else need to go?”

When nobody replies, and there are a couple of negative head-shakes, I reply for them. “It’s just me again, I’m afraid.” I’m getting the distinct impression that I am the only one of my colleagues to do any serious catering for themselves.

“Then we shall drop everybody off and I will take you,” Joseph suggests.

I have to step out of the car to let Anders get out from behind me and shout that I’ll be back in a moment. I’ve actually remembered that they don’t do disposable carrier bags and that we bought four proper shopping bags on our first visit. It won’t take me a moment to run to my apartment and get them.

Nor does it take us long to get back to the mall and find a parking space. I have a better idea of what I want this time, but Joseph is once again incredibly helpful. Supermarkets the world over might look the same at a casual glance, but they all seem to have a different priority when it comes to what can be found where. Joseph is on familiar ground and I’m just following along behind and trying to take it all in.

By the time we get to the checkout, I’m determined to do something to pay him back for his kindness and am formulating a plan. “Are you working tomorrow, Joseph?” I ask him as we pack my bags.

“No, Will. I have the day off. We have nothing scheduled and Martin is on duty.”

“Then you would be free for me to cook for you?”

“You do not need to do that.”

“No, but I told you that I wish to thank you for your help. If you are not busy, of course.”

“No, I am not busy.”

“No family commitments?” I’ve become more and more aware of how much family plays its part here. Perhaps more than at home, but not by much. Family and religion. Many of my new staff were talking about going to see family over the weekend.

“No.”

“Then do me the honour of accepting,” I ask quite formally. “I promise not to poison you.”

“I can see what you buy,” he suggests with a smile. “Okay, I will have supper with you.”

We finish my supply run and head back to the car. Joseph opens the door for me and then puts the bags in the back. As we head back along the highway, he apparently has a question for me.

“What else are you doing tomorrow, Will?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I reply. “I was going to relax and do as little as possible.”

“Then be at the car by eight,” he tells me before falling into silence. I’ve only two bags and can manage that much on my own so I say goodbye at the car and head home.