The White Collar on the Ex-Blue Collar Is a Cool Collar

“Do I like my job—why shouldn’t I?” The idea that he shouldn’t like his job stops him for a second. He flutters with his long collar points. “It’s clean,” he says, “just look.” You look around, and it is clean, only a few people in the computer section. A tall, curving, thin man, white, is mopping, sweeping, and pushing a bucket, not simultaneously but in a methodical three-way pattern. The clock says 1:30, and the computers are rattling out paper, very like the sound of railroad wheels in another time. Reels of tape activating the takes, in spurts and stops, rock back and forth; small squares of light —red, yellow, green, blue—have their own character, some gleam, some brood, o...