Cometh the turnstile

The much heralded arrival of single access entry to CorpWorld has been a bit of an anticlimax. Serious looking men with tools had been seen working in the wings for weeks. Then half of the old doors were suddenly replaced by a footpad large enough to contain a revolving door.

The serious people had clipboards and were jabbering on excitedly about what piece of the apparatus went where.

Ooooh... anticip-












-pation!

Days of serious people doing serious things. Black wires protruding from the ceiling overhead.

Then- a revolving door! The dreaded turnstile - here!

Ooooh! Cutting edge, site security tec!. Very now. Nearly Gattaca.

But it wasn't working yet. So we still used the same door as always.

Then... more men with tools.

Then the rest of the old doors went away. Replaced with.... other doors. Two opposed doors in an abbreviated hallway. A secure airlock.

Which also didn't work.

So, the airlock doors were left wide open and a guard was stationed next to them. The guard asked everyone for their badge. If you had one, you got in.

They were very nice about it, too.

There were days of this. Walking past the mysterious non-rotating doors (roped off and surrounded by traffic cones) you'd show your badge to a guard, and walk through the secure airlock (now shimmed open with a decidedly low-tech piece of wood).

Each day, I was paranoid about my badge - Cometh the turnstile, there will be no more drafting.

Weeks of this.

Then one fateful day, I arrive to see: no cones, no shims - just a rotating door and a secure airlock.

To one side was the guard - on the other were two clipboard people.

Here we go....

There are two men well in front of me, and I hear the guard assisting the first man:

"No - you... you just scan it and push." He smiles. "No. Just-"

More smiling. The revolving door won't budge.

The first man looks confused. The guard is now being helped by the clipboard people.

"Try to scan it again."

"No. Not there, but-"

"Okay, now. Go ahead"

"Wait-"

First Man goes in - and the door stops with him inside. Loud beeping. The clipboard people jabber among themselves. The guard motions the first man to sop and then scans their own badge. The beeping stops.

Second Man is backing up. The revolving door starts moving and the First Man is through.

Clipboard woman invites Second Man over with a gesture that attempts to say It's okay. If it stops I'll get you out.

Second man is not impressed. He scans his badge in a hurry and tries to rush through.

The door locks up. More beeping.

"Try to scan it again....slowly."

Second man complies. The door does, too.

Then it's me. I hold my badge for a long time in front of the scanner until I see the light. Until I'm sure Second guy is through. I push on the door.

-and it works as advertised.

Clipboard woman makes a mark on her sheet.

Behind me are a number of people who are looking at each other with expressions of nervous amusement.

No. You go first.

Me? I'm gone. Late for work anyway.

At lunch I watch a man on a motorized chair try to navigate the airlock. It goes badly enough that the serious people have to intervene.

Next day - the cones are back. The airlock is shimmed open - and I'm greeted by a smiling guard.

That was a week ago. Serious looking people have been crawling all over the doors for days.

And every day - I show my badge to a nice guard who lets me go through the shimmed airlock.

It's actually easier with the guard.

Hmmm..

And I can't tailgate.

And no one ever gets trapped in an open hallway.

Double hmmm..

Despite this, the clipboard people persist.

And surely someday - someday soon... the turnstile cometh.