TO DO: HAVE LESS FUN IN THE OFFICE

LET us spare a thought this week for those unfortunate souls currently away on their holidays. There they are, having a fortnight of sun, sea and laughs with the family, far away from where all the real fun is happening – the office.

Come now, that is not very nice language to be using of a Saturday morning. The office can be fun, fun, fun, as anyone can see from a sneek peek at Google’s plans, revealed this week, for its new London HQ. Everything a worker bee could ever wish for will be housed in this £1 billion building. 

As in the tech giant’s other offices, perks for the 7000 employees will include massages, free gourmet food and haircuts (not at the same time), bowling alleys and skating rinks. Employees are even encouraged to bring their dogs to work and take a nap in one of the £5000 sleep pods. If they need to have a meeting there are lots of funky locations to hand, such as an old Sixties caravan parked on site. Those who want to exercise limbs at the same time as minds can climb on a bicycle made for five. 

On closer inspection of all the goodies on offer, however, working in such a place sounds more like office hell rather than heaven. This being Google, world leader in nosiness, employees are forever being monitored by “people analysts” (personnel officers in old money) to assess how they are getting on.

As for all that fun, there is a touch of trying too hard, Hogmanay compulsoriness about it. Are you having fun yet? No? Then report to your people analyst for re-education.

Office bods have a love-irritate relationship with their workplaces. Mostly, they love the money that comes from working there and are irritated by almost everything else. The biggest risk from turning the office into a home from home is that sooner or later the family would want to join you there. That not only takes away the primary purpose of the office – to escape from your nearest and dearest – but how would you like to get this month’s expenses in before the deadline with some sarky teenager looking over your shoulder and giggling?

No, in office matters I take my cue from Reggie Perrin’s boss, CJ, and hold to the rule that the office should be strictly a place of work with no fancy trappings. Here, then, is my “I Didn’t Get Where I Am Today Without …” guide to the ideal office. (Note: the following observations are drawn from the writer’s experience over many decades in several unnamed workplaces. Any resemblance between the offices mentioned here and my current place of employment is entirely coincidental. So there.)

First, I didn’t get where I am today without stained carpets. Floor furnishings can be a bone of contention in many offices, with some folk preferring laminates because they are easier to keep clean. For my money, there is nothing to beat stained carpets. Being already marked, no-one gets too upset if they accidentally spill coffee or the occasional bodily fluid. This creates a relaxed atmosphere which no amount of fancy Google back rubs can match.

Next, I didn’t get where I am today without canteen ladies. These hardy souls do far more than dispense cheese toasties. Being a mix of analyst, holiday guide, and substitute mum, they are an invaluable source of advice and comfort. Cherish them. Ditto the silent army of cleaners who come in overnight to clean up after you.

Nor did I get where I am today without someone instituting a ban on dogs in the office. When there was no ban in place I used to bring in my two Labs. The permission of the then editor was not sought for fear he might frown on the practice, so the dogs had to be hidden from sight, or taken for a walk, when he was around. Oh, the laughs we had concealing them. Occasionally, alas, walkies were delayed because some pesky war had broken out somewhere and the front page had to be redrawn. See stained carpets.

I didn’t get where I am today without meetings in which there were no cakes or biscuits available. These treats were once the only reason to go to meetings and to stay awake. Nothing, after all, motivates like the desire to bag the last empire biscuit. Today, though, and you might want to sit down for this one, sugary treats have been replaced by ... fruit. It’s true. The apple and bananas only rule now ensures that meetings are over before they have barely started.

Finally, I didn’t get where I am today without eschewing naps. Brief kips,  like lunch, are for wimps and amateurs. What I do is paint eyes on my eyelids so I can have as long a sleep as I please any time I want. 
See what larks the office can be without enforced fun? 

HOPE FLIES ETERNAL

MAYHEM at SW19 this week when flying ants descended on Wimbledon.
Inevitably dubbed a “plague”, the winged creatures got up the noses and into the hair of players and spectators. Johanna Konta, the British women’s number one, said she had eaten a few. (I know the food can be a bit pricey, but really.)

Only in this world famous west London suburb could so much consternation and flapping around have been caused by something so tiny. According to experts, it is the tournament that is at fault, not the ants. The insects hold their annual Flying Ant Day (yes, it’s a thing) at the same time every year. Not having diaries they cannot be expected to schedule their lives around Wimbers, which this year has started a week later than usual.

It does make one wonder how Wimbledon, and other sporting events, would fare if the tournament was relocated to the Highlands in summer. Scots, having learned to cope with flying pests from a young age, would have an inbuilt advantage in everything. Idea for Nicola Sturgeon to work on there.

GEE WHAT LARKS AT THE G20 FOR SPOUSES

OH to be in Hamburg now that the G20 summit is there. The burble of the Elbe, the whisper of leaves on die Baume, the acrid stench of tear gas and the sight of protesters being knocked on their backsides by water cannon … what a wonderful, happy world we have made.
If the political leaders think the meetings of 20 minds and myriad sherpas are tough, they should try being on one of Joachim Sauer’s days out. 

Herr Sauer, as the husband of summit host Angela Merkel, is in charge of entertaining the spouses while their other halves are busy making plans. Among the delights the quantum chemist has lined up is a visit to a computing institute that measures climate change. Are there no pencil museums in Hamburg? Museums of drainage?

What a refreshing change, though, from the days when it was only women on the sidelines and the activities included shopping and afternoon tea. Mr Theresa May and Ms Melania Trump will love the climate change institute. Donald Trump will be furious at missing out, though. Stand by for an angry tweet.