There are many ways and methods of transportation to get one to work in a semi-formed piece. The attitudes and means by which you arrive are often a strong reflection of who you are as a person and therefore what type of “worker” (in quotes because all work is essentially done for you by a machine or a screen in the present epoch) you are. Are you Heath Ledger’s version of the Joker, rolling up demented, mad and in a stolen vehicle? Likely so. But instead, you pretend to be the Carrie Bradshaw sort, elegantly taking a cab (or in your modern case) an Uber. Not that your salary could afford you such a daily luxury. To you, though, the facade of poise can be helpful in making others–like your employer–believe it’s real.
It’s not true though. Can never be true for an office worker. For the murky profession you hold makes it so that all you can do before arriving is allow yourself to go as insane as possible before resuming your resting facial expression of stoicism/deadness. You are Anne Hathaway wielding a fucking knife on the subway as a means of defense right up until the very moment you arrive to your cube, or “work space,” if it helps you to call it that.