This is not a rant. I am committed not to talk about my job; indeed, not to think about it on my personal time. So I am not. I repeat: I am not talking about work. Ok, now that we’re all clear with that, I think it is my moral responsibility to disclose office craziness when I see it. To laugh or not to laugh, that is the question.
Bureaucrats are great problem-solvers. When it gets a bit slow in the office, somebody decides that it would be a good idea to move, and this keeps everyone busy for weeks. Nothing like a change of cubicle to wreak havoc on those stodgy, governmental minds.
The first stage is denial. After the announcement has been made, most employees will shrug off the impending move as at best, another misguided attempt by upper management to improve communication and efficiency, and at worst, the latest empty administrative threat. The “red tape” mentality is so ingrained into the collective consciousness that it is almost impossible to imagine any governmental action that can be co-ordinated and executed within the next year (or before the next head of government comes to power).
The second stage is for petty complaints and petulant whining. After the announcement is made, there are always some poor souls for whom the move will be a traumatic disruption to their daily routines. They cite health reasons, productivity reasons, and personal reasons. They complain that they are too far from the kitchen, or too close to the kitchen; they complain that the heater makes too much noise, that sitting by the window is too cold, or that sitting near the corridor is too distracting. They complain that they need to walk an additional 20 steps to the photocopier. They ask “Why us? Can’t some other group move instead?”
The third stage is frantic negotiation. The affected employees now want to delay the move as long as possible; there is much foot-dragging. They offer to take shorter lunches, to work harder and bring coffee for everyone on Fridays. They threaten to quit. Inevitably, some DO quit…
The fourth stage is self-pity. “Woe is me,” they say. They huddle by the water cooler, discussing their views of the upsetting event to come, their hushed chatter punctuated by an occasional rueful laugh. They regale every sympathetic ear with tall tales of moves past and present, even as some are overcome with nostalgia for the great cubicles of history.
The final stage is acceptance. By the week of the move, the affected employees have perked up considerably, and are now devoting their efforts to finding enough packing tape and cardboard boxes to satisfy their packing needs. Labels are at a premium, and those who have had the foresight to keep a decent black marker unpacked are in high demand. There is much speculation as to the speed of computer hook-ups and phone number changes; a festive air can be felt throughout the office. Packing begins at least 3 days beforehand, and thus little work is accomplished. On the day of the move, food and drink are shared, jokes are told, and Lysol is passed around in a rare bout of co-operation and pleasantry. The merriment is doubly justified by the fact that the LAN team comes right after lunch to disconnect all the computer equipment, rendering all displaced employees totally useless for the remainder of the workday.
