Monday, 3 May: I want the rubber plant beside the claims printer to look alive again. Its lower leaves are yellow, and one brown leaf lies on a folder marked Water Damage. Frau Koller says it has “always looked like that,” but last month it was only dusty. At lunch, after buying a cheese roll at the Anker bakery, I pour half my bottle of still water into the pot while the office is empty.
Thursday, 6 May: Two more leaves have fallen, one onto my keyboard and one into the bin. The soil near the top looks dry, so I decide yesterday’s water must have disappeared too quickly. I fill a coffee mug in the kitchen and carry it back under my claims files. When Frau Koller asks why my mug is empty, I say I had a very small coffee.
Tuesday, 11 May: The plant now leans toward the window as if it wants to take tram line 2 home. Its leaves are soft at the edges, and the pot leaves a wet circle on the cabinet. A client points at it and asks, “Is that part of an insurance case?” I turn the pot so its better side faces the waiting chairs, then give it another careful mug of water after work.
Friday, 14 May: The plant looks worse, although the soil is dark enough to grow rice. There is water in the saucer, and I tip it into the sink before anyone sees. Frau Koller notices the empty saucer and says, “Good, someone is taking care of it.” I nod, because this is technically true, though the plant does not look grateful.
Monday, 17 May: At our claims meeting, I put the rubber plant on the table between the biscuit plate and the printer invoices. I say, “I have been watering this plant in secret, and I may have made a mistake.” Before I can explain the coffee mugs, Frau Koller raises her hand and says, “I water it most mornings with the leftover water from my tea.” The man from the car claims desk says he uses his bottle at lunch, and the woman from travel claims says she adds water before catching the tram home. One by one, every person in the office admits it. We make a paper schedule, hang it beside the pot, and write one rule at the top: Check the soil before watering.
Friday, 21 May: The schedule says nobody has watered the plant for five days. Frau Koller presses one finger into the soil and nods at the next name on the list. At four o’clock, I find a small new leaf opening beside the tallest stem. I pin the schedule straight while the leaf points toward the window.