When You’re Your Own Boss—and When You Finally Aren’t
Before Mikrocop, I ran my own office-equipment business. Which means: every win was mine, every fall was mine too. And every worry. The kind you take home, place on your nightstand, and find still waiting for you in the morning.
After twenty-five years, the business did what sometimes feels most natural—it slowly faded out. That’s when I stepped into Mikrocop. And for the first time in a long while, I learned what safety and stability really feel like. Closing your computer at a set hour. Closing the door behind you. And knowing the business won’t come knocking at night.
That’s why I sometimes struggle to understand young people who come to work just to tick a box. No spark. No desire to leave even a tiny pebble in the mosaic. Loyalty? Often surprisingly low. We grew up with it.
I worked at Mikrocop as if it were my own, too. If a hallway light was on for no reason, I switched it off. A good housekeeper, they’d say. A sense of responsibility. And belonging. That’s where I feel the generational gap is biggest.
Indexing—A Real Talent Hatchery
Indexing was… how should I put it… a real talent hatchery. Look around today—in almost any department or office—and you’ll very likely find someone who came through indexing.
I spent most of my Mikrocop career there, too. Unplanned. Unexpected. But that’s how it worked out. I only left when my joints in my hands started speaking up and said: enough.
So I spent my last five years in controlling. And honestly—I was even happier. Yes, my work was near the end of the task sequence, but we knew how to organise, how to agree. And get everything done within working hours. That tells you something, too.
The Guys, the Girls, and the Drinks That Disappeared
Once upon a time, indexing was mostly men. And back then we socialised a lot outside the office too. Drinks. Every week. Regularly. We were connected.
Then the guys started moving into other departments. The girls arrived. And socialising slowly scattered. Completely understandable. Kids. Family. Obligations. At the hour, you had to go home.
I already had grown children, but I know what it’s like when they’re small. Back then, the world simply doesn’t wait for you.
Hallways, Smoke Breaks, and Unknown Faces
The company grew. People came and went. We used to work a lot with students, then more and more with full-time employees. And one day I caught myself realising I no longer knew everyone in the hallways.
Because I’m not a smoker, I didn’t go to “smoke breaks”—that informal information hub. And I would often ask colleagues: “Hey, who is that? And who is she?”
Work keeps you in your own circle. Everything else passes by.
E-Enforcements and the End of Scanners
When courts began sending enforcement orders electronically, many people said it would never really catch on. A year or two later—everything was electronic.
For me, it was a positive change. Faster. Cleaner. No bad scans and no guessing whether the number is a six or an eight. An electronic document is like an original. Clear. Of course, the quotas went up. The pace, too. But that’s the point of change: to work better, faster, and more simply.
Panic in the Hallways and the Voice of Reason
Company-level changes often affected our department less than people talked about. Panic could spread through the hallways. And then you had to sort it out inside yourself: this is not the end of the world. It’s just change. And the information is often quite inflated.
Today, employee awareness is on a much higher level. Meetings. Coordinations. Quarterly get-togethers. The chance to ask management directly.
What’s interesting, though, is that during big changes there seemed to be an unusually high number of maternity leaves. Coincidence? Maybe…
Why I Was Never a Manager
The CEO offered me a management position fairly early on. I turned it down. A manager has to know the processes. All of them. In detail. Only then can you truly help your colleagues. Back then, I just didn’t see myself in that role.
Later, I realised a consulting role suited me better. Helping with experience. With common sense.
Many people told me I was a “stand-in mum”. I’d say—more like the voice of reason.
Covid, the Kitchen Table, and Laptops
For many, Covid was a turning point. For me personally, less so. I mostly worked in the office. Documents simply require presence.
Working from home didn’t suit me very well. I find it hard to separate work and private life. There’s always “one more thing”. And you quickly get tired of looking at a laptop on the kitchen table.
But I did like the flexibility. Doctor. Errand. Then you continue where you left off. Without the feeling the world will collapse. And yes—laptops were a big step forward.
When the Keys Sang to the Rhythm of AC/DC
Back in the days before InDoc EDGE, the world was much more analogue than people would imagine today. For data entry we used two programmes—Tools and Ika. Everything manual. And where there’s manual work, there are mistakes.
I remember controlling sometimes reviewing documents and finding the entry work far from flawless. Those were different times—with different expectations and a different tolerance level.
And then comes an anecdote you don’t forget. We landed a bigger job. Huge amounts of documentation. Truly huge. Data entry went on and on. The pace dropped, concentration too. And our team lead did something you probably wouldn’t find in any leadership handbook today.
He found a good track online. Played it. And we started typing to the rhythm of the music. Most often it was AC/DC. Suddenly it got easier. Faster. Fewer mistakes. More energy. The keys were singing. And so were we.
That’s when I learned that sometimes you don’t need to push harder—sometimes you just need to change the rhythm.
The Employment Office as Therapy
Of course, it wasn’t always easy. There were days when morale dropped. When someone complained. When too much negative energy gathered in the room.
That’s when the team lead reached for music again. But no longer for energetic riffs—this time for themed songs. The kind that make you smile even when you don’t feel like smiling. For example, Adi Smolar – Zavod za zaposlovanje.
Laughter did its job. The tension eased. And we moved on. We knew how to lift each other up. That wasn’t a given—it was culture.
Phones, Security, and Being Reachable
Over the years, we also felt major changes in security. At one point, phones were forbidden in services—because of information security. And that had very real consequences.
For young mums, it meant they weren’t reachable. Not even if the kindergarten or school called. Of course, there were exceptions—urgent calls via the landline, via the receptionist—but it’s not the same.
Today, being reachable feels like something obvious. Back then, it was a big change. And a big relief.
An Alarm at Two—and Luck in the Shape of a Cigarette
Still on the topic of security, here’s another story that stayed very vivid for me. In the past, we didn’t have a security guard 24/7. He worked shifts. And we worked Saturdays too. It was Saturday, two o’clock. Honestly—I don’t even remember what I was still fiddling with. But when I tried to leave… the alarm went off.
The receptionist had apparently gone at two and armed the alarm. And there I was—trapped. Lucky in an unlucky way: my colleagues were still outside the building, lighting a cigarette. They heard the alarm. They called the security guard, who came back and let me out.
That was my very beginning. The onboarding period. Later, I got used to the idea that when it’s time—you go. No lingering.
December, a Raffle, and Gifts with Soul
One of the loveliest traditions was the December gift exchange in our unit. But not just any kind. The rule was: store-bought gifts had no place here.
Everyone had to make something. Create it. Put time and effort into it. And then we exchanged gifts by raffle. It wasn’t just gifting. It was a message: I made an effort—for you. And that connected us more than any purchased item ever could.
Using Formal “You” as a Personal Choice
All those years, I addressed colleagues formally. For me, it was a way to create a relationship that keeps respectful boundaries.
I know some people find that odd. It’s true—it creates distance. But at the same time it makes it easier to speak respectfully even in difficult situations. Not “too familiar”. It didn’t bother me if others used the informal form with me. It’s about me—how I communicate. And how I know the other person will think twice before going too far.
In my experience, it’s also a kind of self-censorship in younger teams, where sometimes the tongue outruns the brain.
Retirement, Clay, and the World of 1 0 1 0
Today I’m retired and volunteer at a sheltered workshop centre. I go for the company. I taught one of the residents bobbin lace-making, and I learned how to work with clay myself. They create truly beautiful things in the centre—and they sell them too. And that pulled me in. Manual skills. The feeling that something becomes something.
It’s hard to give a smart piece of advice for the next 50 years. The company has evolved from a service company into a development-focused IT company. When I look at colleagues today, I sometimes see them as 1 0 1 0. The thinking is different. The pace is faster. Everything is tight—time, delivery, communication.
But despite all progress, we’re still human. And for good results together, we need good communication. And good relationships.
