Monday, November 22, 2010

Office contraband

I have a black market rubbish bin. That shows you how much on the edge I like to live. Way out there, like a lone ranger on the highway to hell. Or not.

Let me explain. Today we moved into new whizz-bang state-of-the-art modern offices. You know, the kind of place when the meeting rooms have catchy names and lurid walls? Where there's real coffee in the "work cafe" and it still tastes like crap?

Anyway, a lot of people are moaning because while the building is whizz-bang and state-of-the art, it is rather bereft of offices. Yep, you got it. The latest in "management techniques" - the open plan office. Unless your title has the word "director" in it, your door is no more.

Instead we have several small meeting rooms, and a few quiet rooms, for those tetchy discussions between a manager and her staff, or between HR and anyone. I used a fair few of those rooms myself, just today (I have a plan to use the rest tomorrow).

Me? I'm not so worried about the office, but there is one thing that has raised my hackles.

By way of further background, not only is the office whizz-bang and state-of the art, it is also a five-star green-rated building. No one is allowed personal electronic equipment such as heaters, fans or portable printers.

And no-one is allowed their own bin.

Instead, there are three waste disposal units in the work cafe - one for general rubbish, one for recycling and one for organisc wastes.

Yeah, yeah, all very admirable and everything, but the efficiency nazi in me just cannot for the life of her see any purpose in wasting several minutes every day traipsing to and from the cafe to throw away various pieces of rubbish.

Hence the illegal bin, tucked under my desk, out of sight of all but the most prying eyes. I am happy to empty it myself, heck, I'll even empty it into the correct receptacle in the cafe. But damned if I'm giving it up without a fight.

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