I cannot see the tranquil view of the fjord through the piles of papers on my desk. They spread throughout my office reaching epidemic proportions. The door to my office squeaks like the loo door on a sea trawler as endless traffic parades through. Bar my all star delivery bitches, most visitors are unwelcome time wasters that bore me and keep me from mission critical tasks such as online shopping and blogging.
Something must be done. I believe an extreme office makeover is the answer. I desire a balanced design that puts me in better harmony with an environment in which I spend much too much time.
I consider my requirements. I wish my office to have the ambiance of a boutique hotel, a Philippe Starck design perhaps. A restaurant serving fresh fusion food, a bar with a world class mixologist, a gym and yoga studio, and a health pod offering a range of spa treatments and medical advice. Oh yes, and a ballroom as I wish to learn to ballroom dance in my spare time.
This will be a great challenge to fit in to 30 square metres and on a budget of 2,000 USD. I tender the project to 3 capable firms with solid track records.
The Feng Shui man inspects the space and walks me through his proposal. Nothing too radical, just a rearrangement of the deck chairs. He points out that we must change the location of the door. It opens up to an area housing my all star delivery bitches. The negative yin coming through the open door is not good for me and will give me a stroke. Next to the view of the fjord, this is a favourite area to train my eyes on. I thank him and show him out of an imaginary door that drops 7 stories.
The German design team do not show up in the flesh choosing to video conference. They speak in Teutonic tongues and frankly I haven’t a clue what they are trying to communicate to me other than it involves concrete and steel and requires me to dress in tight leather and cotton t-shirts. I fake my own death during the video conference, something I am told is frightful to witness but gives me the giggles.
The Management Consultants send a young bid team with a very sexy presentation. They are less concerned with aesthetics and focus on productivity. They break the news to me bluntly that my requirements exceed the scope of my budget and recommend a 5 point plan, adding that if we can achieve 3, we will have succeeded:
1) A clean desk policy with an aggressive shredding programme
2) A drawer in my desk containing a wet bar and snacks
3) A list of telephone numbers for asian fusion and sushi delivery
4) A yoga mat
5) A large battery powered vibrating massage device.
They are sharp and focused if not a little aggressive. The hair on the back of my neck is up. I like the cut of their jibs. I try to catch them out and query them on proposals for reducing the volume of visitor traffic.
This is the pièce de résistance. They can hardly contain themselves and crack wry smiles. They advise planting anti-personnel devices just inside the door of my office. 3D glasses providing a secure rumba path through will be offered to my all star delivery bitches and welcome visitors. All unauthorised traffic will get the message pretty quickly.
In preparation for the changes I enrol in rumba lessons and ready my fingers for more activities of the online variety.
In confidence, the large battery powered vibrating massage device frightens me, though it is kind of exciting.