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caddymanFor the past few months – probably a year now, come to think of it - we have been under a standing injunction to come into the office twice a week on average. This is, as far as I can see, because politicians assume that nothing gets done if we work at home. Spaffer himself reckoned it was impossible: he’d wander into the kitchen and find a piece of cheese or something and that would be it. The Rt. Hon. Member for the 18th century, during his brief sojourn haunting a Secretary of State’s office reputedly left messages on empty desks inviting the next person to sit there up to his office to explain their previous absences*.
Frankly, I get much less done in the office than I do when I’m at home. I do make trips to the kitchen to get tea and maybe a piece of cheese, but the work gets done, usually ahead of deadline. When I come into the office, I am constantly checking the clock to see if I can go to lunch, or if anyone would miss me if I went home.
In the before times, when we didn’t know any better and came in every day (and there was a luxurious allocation of seven desks for every ten of us), the crushing boredom would be lifted by chatting to colleagues while working. Nowadays, when I venture in, it’s rare that anyone else is around. Today, for instance, it’s me and my boss’s boss’s boss from our team. The rest are either on a visit to a local council, or working from home. A couple might be on leave, or off sick.
There are people around, but I don’t know anyone. At least at home I can talk to the cat, even when Furtle isn’t around.
The office is warm, quiet, and soporific. I am bored out of my gourd and I’ve achieved largely the square root of bugger all while I’ve been here. But that doesn’t matter, because I’m in the office and attendance is King.
*Betraying a basic lack of knowledge about how hot desking works, and ignoring the fact that successive cost-cutting measures mean that in many buildings there are only six desks for every ten drones.
Frankly, I get much less done in the office than I do when I’m at home. I do make trips to the kitchen to get tea and maybe a piece of cheese, but the work gets done, usually ahead of deadline. When I come into the office, I am constantly checking the clock to see if I can go to lunch, or if anyone would miss me if I went home.
In the before times, when we didn’t know any better and came in every day (and there was a luxurious allocation of seven desks for every ten of us), the crushing boredom would be lifted by chatting to colleagues while working. Nowadays, when I venture in, it’s rare that anyone else is around. Today, for instance, it’s me and my boss’s boss’s boss from our team. The rest are either on a visit to a local council, or working from home. A couple might be on leave, or off sick.
There are people around, but I don’t know anyone. At least at home I can talk to the cat, even when Furtle isn’t around.
The office is warm, quiet, and soporific. I am bored out of my gourd and I’ve achieved largely the square root of bugger all while I’ve been here. But that doesn’t matter, because I’m in the office and attendance is King.
*Betraying a basic lack of knowledge about how hot desking works, and ignoring the fact that successive cost-cutting measures mean that in many buildings there are only six desks for every ten drones.
