The young woman in Treadwell's play is suffocating. The office environment is restricting her to the point that she can't think for herself, can't make decisions, can't even process what is going on around her. She keeps complaining that she needs air, like she's a caged animal rattling the bars that hold it captive. The sheep in the opening shot of Modern Times are comparable to the young woman, and everyone else in the office for that matter, except for Mr. George H. Jones who is the overseer as is the president in the tramp's factory.
Work is an impulsive, jolting, and systematic action that consumes the office workers. I pictured men and women as recordings being played over and over again, not thinking of what they are doing or saying, but just carrying out the actions because that's all they have been taught, allowed. They are all stuck on a rotating wheel with no way to get off. They are so consumed by their work that it's impossible for them to do anything else. Reciting numbers in manic manners, repeating the same phrases over and over again when answering a phone, etc., and they are just so blind. They can't help repeating each other's words; they hardly speak in full sentences because the stress and urgency of the workplace demands it.
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