I work in a ghost town (a ghost office park).


I don’t even know how many vacancies there are: empty offices, empty suites -entire floors, entire buildings — vacant — in the office park where I work. Raleigh was not hit particularly hard by the economic bad times. As a matter of fact, Raleigh weathered the bust rather well. The low unemployment rate and the brisk economy  -innovative and enterprising- were things that drew me to the area.

I don’t know…I guess the patch of property where I work — it is in a forgotten part of town — a poorly accessed, hemmed in, forgotten part of town — it just ain’t sexy. It is not nerdy-sexy-cool like RTP or Kit Creek northwest of town…and it isn’t killer-cool-smoove like the Downtown Durham Tobacco Campus.

Where I work: I can take walks and explore and not see another soul. It’s so weird.

I can always find places to park and take a Toyota nap at lunch time.

The buildings are still kept up very well: the floors, the walls, the deco, the furniture — it’s very ‘modern’ and ‘styled’…seemingly. It’s just empty, in large part. With some buildings, there might be one or two businesses operating — but it’s barely worth unlocking the front doors…

If I ever got tired of holding down a residence of my own, it seems as though I could could unroll a sleeping bag and plug in a little TV set in a hallway wall outlet — and be all set — undisturbed — in any of the quiet halls -on any of the vacant floors -in any of the barely occupied buildings back here.

What is the allure of the abandoned property? Why is it so fascinating? There are tons and tons of photos and photo sets and groups online dedicated to it. Is it similar to our fascination with death? Do we wish we had the world all to ourselves? Many people you talk to have a story similar to this one (I have this story) …the story is always told with a creeped- out enthusiasm – the story is: Once when I was a kid, I woke up, and the house was completely quiet. I didn’t see or hear anyone – nobody was up and about in the house. I went to the garage and got my bike. I rode off into the neighborhood, and I didn’t see anybody at all for a full hour. Nobody was on the street. Nobody was on their porch. Nobody was in their yard. The neighborhood was quiet, still and empty. I thought I was the last person left on earth.


About HappyApathy

It eels what it eels.
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5 Responses to I work in a ghost town (a ghost office park).

  1. You are a little nutty with that video camera. nice outlet.

  2. 63mago says:

    Perhaps it’s a kind of memento mori.

  3. For someone like me, it’s a most ideal workplace. Peaceful, spacey, and no people around. 😀

    • HappyApathy says:

      Let’s start a business together! You can have one end of the empty building, and I’ll take the other end. What should we do? Insurance? Or: A nonprofit! We’ll use intercoms.

      • Insurance?! You must be kidding. That’s boring. A nonprofit?! Double kidding me? 😀
        I want something exciting and dicey like a striptease club that’ll bring us stacks and stacks of moolah.

        Trash the intercom. We’ll happily run and hop going to each other’s buildings.

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