Hampton Avery Architects

Dispatches from the Frontlines

For those of you who truly believe the film versions, in which architects often wear black, drive nice fast cars, and romance beautiful and complex women… please don’t let us burst your bubble.

You may stop reading NOW.

For those of you willing to to face the fact that, while we as upstanding professionals are charged with the Health, Safety, and Welfare of the public… this often means doing some pretty mundane stuff along with the fun stuff. If you’re willing to go along with us on this journey, we’d be happy to have you. We’ll be doing a series of ‘Dispatches from the Frontlines’ in the near future, so tune in.

Here’s a quick one to tide you over.

No.1: Dispatch from the Permit Line

Within an undisclosed Room an undisclosed Building in an undisclosed City, people gather early in the day to seek the official favor of a Building Permit. This very special piece of paper, bestowed often grudgingly upon a grateful and humble Public, allows its bearer to build legally without impunity, and without fear of reprisal.

One never knows exactly what may be needed to obtain such official Favour. Through the magic of the World Wide Web, information has the ability of being distributed at speeds that might bewilder our ancestors.

This is the speed of business.

This is the speed of the world today.

This, however, is not the speed of the Department of Buildings.

What might be found online might be supplanted at a moment’s notice by those in power, those behind the desk which separates the Public from… the Officials.

Imagine, if you will, the following scenario.

_

The Architect enters The Room at 7:55am.

He takes his seat in a row of seats, empty excepting a slightly disheveled man in a dark trenchcoat. He opens his backpack, and places a slim manila folder on his lap, opens it, and calmly leafs through its contents: all appears in order. Before him sits a desk with a sign which reads “Please have a seat. We will begin calling names at 8:30am in the order in which you arrived.”  Another sign reads “No cellphones allowed in this room.”

He notices the trenchcoat-man’s bag on the floor - it contains scores of similar manila folders, most bulging with papers of varying sizes and colors. He appears to be speaking to himself. But… no cellphones are allowed in The Room. What might account for this obvious oversight on the man’s part?

The Official enters at 8:00am and takes a place behind the desk.

Architect and Official lean forward slightly, nod cordially to each other, and resume their positions. Soon, they will be locked in an embrace, an embrace of steel, from which but one will emerge victorious.

Again, the Architect peruses his documents - all of which appear to be in order. He adjusts his shirt-collar and folds his hands. The trenchcoat-man shifts in his seat, muttering again. He appears to have no cellphone. After a time, quiet falls.

At 8:05am, another man enters and takes a seat before the desk of the Official. He appears alert and anxious. He is dressed casually, and holds a manila folder.

As time passes, more Officials enter, wave a security clearance card, and disappear quickly through the portals of The Department. Some Officials gather to speak amongst themselves - their voices ring in the confines of The Room.

Another man enters, takes a seat, and begins to speak on his cellphone.

“Would you might taking your call outside, sir - thank you” says one of the standing Officials. It is 8:19am.

The Architect, once more, reviews his documents for their completeness. Each form has been carefully completed by computer - the only handwritten entries being the looping curves of a signature here and there. He closes the folder. He sits back. He catches the eye of The Official behind the desk. Again, they smile - the smiles of men who know that the impending struggle may be short… but decisive.

The trenchcoat-man mutters, and shifts. The casual-dresser fidgets. It is 8:28am.

The Officials speak quickly, jovially, swooping past each other, as a second Official takes a place behind the desk, the chair swaying.

The time has now come - it is 8:30am.

The first Official stands and speaks: “Hi folks. Let’s see now… who was here first?”

The casual-dresser leans forward and says “I was here at 8:00!”

The Architect says “I believe this gentleman” indicating the trenchcoat-man “was here before you, and I was here before 8:00.”

“Oh, I was outside in the hall, and talked with Mr. ____ ” as he looks at the first Official.

A dubious claim indeed. Nonetheless, the first Official motions the casual-dresser to take a seat before the second Official. The trenchcoat-man rumbles “Aw, thass okay… I’m just here to see _____ anyway.”

The first Official meets the eye of the Architect.

“Sir? Do you have your permit application?”

The Architect nods, and rises.

(to be continued…)