Desks equal dignity
We have gone to hot-desking in the office. This has gone better than expected – nobody has tried to kill anyone yet, but as everyone was expecting it to be tremendously shit, our expectations have been met.
There are a couple of issues. The first is the ‘you snooze, you lose’ principle that sees early birds rewarded with the pick of the desks, while latecomers have to wander the floor like the flying Dutchman, forever seeking port, or sherry or any kind of fortified wine.
The other issue is that we have been issued with lockers. Not the sort you might get in a gym or have seen many a hapless teen pushed into in an American comedy film. Rather, these are lockers such as you might expect to give to a primary school child. I fully expect that our next initiative will result in our being allocated our own peg, possibly shaped like the face of an animal.
I am strongly tempted to decorate my locker, both outside and in. For the outside, some sort of sticker I think, ‘I’ve urinated in the Grand Canyon’ or something. For the inside there can only be one decoration; porn.
And not just any porn, no, I want the stuff you used to see in garages. Soft core with the young lady in question possibly sitting on a tub of swarfega. I think that sets the right tone.
Either that or I’m going to turn my locker into a mini-bar! Alternatives that spring to mind include putting a golden light source inside so that when you open it there appears to be some fabulous treasure in there when viewed from the side. Or maybe a white strobe light, dry ice and a ‘wooshing’ sound effect, leaving one to mutter about ‘bloody dimensional portals’ every time you open one.
Or a simple ram’s skull and black candles.
Surely there’s scope for mischief making here too, would it be fun to start spreading the urban myth about a locker being haunted? Or cursed? ‘Hey, you’ve got 318? That used to be Geoff’s, terrible what happened. Still, I’m sure that what they say can’t be true…you’re not superstitious are you?’
Or, I can just keep loads o’ crap in there. That’s what everyone else seems to do.
There are a couple of issues. The first is the ‘you snooze, you lose’ principle that sees early birds rewarded with the pick of the desks, while latecomers have to wander the floor like the flying Dutchman, forever seeking port, or sherry or any kind of fortified wine.
The other issue is that we have been issued with lockers. Not the sort you might get in a gym or have seen many a hapless teen pushed into in an American comedy film. Rather, these are lockers such as you might expect to give to a primary school child. I fully expect that our next initiative will result in our being allocated our own peg, possibly shaped like the face of an animal.
I am strongly tempted to decorate my locker, both outside and in. For the outside, some sort of sticker I think, ‘I’ve urinated in the Grand Canyon’ or something. For the inside there can only be one decoration; porn.
And not just any porn, no, I want the stuff you used to see in garages. Soft core with the young lady in question possibly sitting on a tub of swarfega. I think that sets the right tone.
Either that or I’m going to turn my locker into a mini-bar! Alternatives that spring to mind include putting a golden light source inside so that when you open it there appears to be some fabulous treasure in there when viewed from the side. Or maybe a white strobe light, dry ice and a ‘wooshing’ sound effect, leaving one to mutter about ‘bloody dimensional portals’ every time you open one.
Or a simple ram’s skull and black candles.
Surely there’s scope for mischief making here too, would it be fun to start spreading the urban myth about a locker being haunted? Or cursed? ‘Hey, you’ve got 318? That used to be Geoff’s, terrible what happened. Still, I’m sure that what they say can’t be true…you’re not superstitious are you?’
Or, I can just keep loads o’ crap in there. That’s what everyone else seems to do.
Labels: Office, Office Life, Work
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