The culture of Float Culture
I came to Float Culture by accident, to clean showers and answer the phone. I stayed for the people who walked through the door.
In February 2015 I was made redundant from the job that had carried me through most of my uni years. I had a month to find something that would fit a busy schedule and cover the rent. Three weeks in, a week before my twenty-third birthday, I was getting genuinely anxious. I felt I had nothing to show for myself — no degree, no job, no relationship to speak of. Then I saw an ad for a centre operator at a place called Float Culture.
I sort of knew the guys who'd started it, and I sort of knew what it was about, so I applied, went for the interview, and got the job the day before my birthday. I'll admit I secretly felt the universe had cheated me. I'd gone from office admin to speed-cleaning showers.
The thing about the showers
Soon enough, the cleaning didn't seem like the point. For me the job became about the people who came through the doors. You could file them into categories if you wanted to — athletes, young parents, high-powered career types, hippies — but they came from every imaginable walk of life, and no two were quite the same.
No one float is better than another. It's whatever each person needs that day.
All different, all interesting
Even the athletes were different from each other. Some were MMA fighters, some triathletes, some IFBB pros. Some floated to clear their minds entirely; others to visualise a fight, going through the motions or envisioning the win. And the young professionals were no more uniform: a PR woman, a little anxious going in because she didn't know how she'd feel alone with her thoughts, coming out more relaxed than she'd been in years; a builder who floated twice a month to take his meditation practice to the next level. Both completely different, both equally interesting.
We're not really in the business of water. We're in the business of people coming back to themselves.
That, more than anything, is what "Float Culture" came to mean to me — not the tanks, not the salt, but the strange and lovely cross-section of a city that passes through a place built for stillness. Years later, it's still the best part of the job. If you've never been, come and add yourself to the mix — here's where to start, and the intro offer if it's your first time.