"Security guards may not interact with children below the age of 12. Should a child touch an artwork, politely ask their parent or guardian to pay attention that it does not happen again. Report any visitor contacts to the control room."
Two months ago, I became a security guard. I was hired to work at a football stadium. When they found out that I speak French, they sent me to an art museum instead. "How fancy!" I thought. I felt a little important, being bilingual and all. It's a very important skill since we're in the capital.
10:03
The first room in Gallery E contains the oldest paintings in the exhibit, going back as early as 1400. Large paintings that used to hang in old churches and cathedrals now populate room E1. But that's not what caught my attention. I've been here enough times that it's become a little too old. I walk into the side room, knowing that it is about to start. There is a rectangular balcony that connects all the side rooms from E1 to E18. You can see a lovely garden below, inside Gallery A. I stared at the yellow and violet flowers that were neatly planted in symmetrical rows, and counted the seconds.
3. 2. 1. I hear the first voice. Then the second. Then the entire choir sings Spem in Alium, filling the garden court with harmonic chanting. The music gently rises up through the balcony and I literally breathe in the melody. The notes slowly enter my body from the bottom and walk their way up to my ears, right into my neurons. It sounds like life! Life is inside this chapel I have yet to visit. Where is this chapel they keep telling me about? Hidden somewhere in the garden court. I have been working here for 2 months and I have yet to be posted in the one rotation that contains this music I long to hear up close. All I get for now is distant echoes. Every. Single. Day. What can I say, I'm a musician. Where there's a musician, there must be music, and vice versa.
10:10
"It's really loud, isn't it?"
I almost jumped. A guard is standing behind me, looking a little annoyed. I hadn't noticed it was time for my break.
"I'm glad it's loud. That way I can actually hear it." I say with a bit of hesitation. He doesn't seem too friendly.
"You like it? Nobody does. Well, except for that one guard, Giovanni. He once told the site manager that he enjoyed being in the chapel because he thought the music sounded like heaven. Ever since then, he never gets posted there."
"Why not?" I ask in disbelief.
"Because the site manager doesn't like it if we're enjoying our job." He extends his hand, waiting for me to give him the key to E1.
"That makes no sense!" I hand him the key, my eyes squinting as I bite my lower lip.
"Just don't tell him you hate a certain gallery. He'll put you there till the end of time." The guard walks away with a smirk on his face.
Unreal. Was he telling the truth?!
Whatever. It's not like I ever talk to the site manager, apart from discussing what shifts are available. Or when he calls me at 8:00 on almost every day off I have, because there are certain guards who don't feel the need to show up to their scheduled shifts. I wonder how that works. All I know is, I get called to come replace these guards. And if I refuse, apparently the site manager will stop giving me shifts as he will see me as "unavailable". So I always say yes. Who needs a day off anyway?
2 months, 2 weeks.
11:15
We have an interesting piece of art in E16. A large, black sculpture that looks like a bunch of over-sized tree leaves hanging by little chains. It dangles from the ceiling in the middle of the room, in a location where it is conveniently accessible for any visitor to touch. Here's the catch: it moves. Although it has an actual name, we affectionately refer to it as "the mobile". Visitors enjoy poking the mobile. That's okay, I guess. It's not allowed, but it's not a big deal. But there is a special breed of visitors. The kind of people who enjoy running around the mobile very quickly in order to make it spin (and it works). Then there are the best type of visitors. They innocently approach this irresistible piece of art, bring their face as close as possible to one of the leaves until their nose almost touches it. And then they blow. A large piece of black metal. They think blowing at it will make it spin. Have you seen the size of that thing? All they ever manage is a tiny spit.
"E16 to control." I call on my radio, with clear exasperation in my voice.
"Go ahead for control!" Says a perky voice. Yeah you can be perky if you're hiding behind your little screens while we stand in the gallery like meaningless statues.
"A visitor just spat at the mobile."
"Is there any visible damage?"
"Negative." As if I'd know whether or not a few drops of saliva would damage metal. Or iron. Or whatever the hell this thing is made of.
"10-4!" Says the control room operator, acknowledging my report. And I move on with my life. Or I think I do.
12:03
My break will soon come. My break will soon come. My break will soon...HEY! What's this lady doing?! I speed-walk toward the mobile and approach an old lady who's a little too close to the artwork. Prevention is the way to go, as far as I'm concerned.
"Excuse me ma'am..."
She cuts me off before I can say anything.
"Oh hello there! Are we allowed to touch this?" She says, ever so carefree.
"Unfortunately that's not al..."
POKE.
Did she seriously just touch it? I resist the urge to slap my forehead. However, I am unable to control the expression on my face, because clearly the lady just noticed I'm about to hang myself from the mobile.
"Oh, were you about to say we can't touch it?" She is still smiling. I'm going to kill myself.
"Ma'am, touching artwork may cause damage. I'm sorry, but it is not permitted."
"Oh no! Am I trouble?"
Classic. I feel like saying yes. I wish I had a pair of plastic handcuffs just to troll naughty visitors and scare them. But I'm professional.
"No ma'am, just avoid getting too close to any artwork and you should be fine. Have a lovely day." I fake a smile, give her a polite nod and walk away. In my head, I scream "HUMANS!" And my break finally arrives.
)
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