Entering a bank. A kind of departure lounge. The vast open plan area occupied by easy chairs, bowls of free boiled sweets, a water dispenser, the in-house radio station channeling unchallenging music. Staff in sharp grey suits addressing customers at podiums. The archaic nature of ‘a ticking clock, wooden interiors and a counter with bars resembling prison visiting time’, now metaphorically long sorted into the archive of redundant box files.