Tuesday, 6 November 2007
There are things in a man's working day - and I think, in this case, it is men - that are sacrosanct. Today I was shocked to find one of those things violated in my own workplace. Since being introduced to the ways of working men 30 or so years ago, I have understood that at certain times - usually about mid-morning - a man might boldly stroll out of the office, with a rolled copy of the Daily Mirror tucked under his arm, for ten minutes private time behind a firmly bolted door. Of course the days of entering the Gents to see a plume of smoke rising like a cloud from a cooling tower, behind a cubicle door, disappeared with the advent of no-smoking policies; but traditions persist and still a moment's meditation away from the fray are welcome.
Today though, as I popped in for a pre-meeting pee I noticed, in the gap beneath a cubicle door, some poor corporate soul felt that even that moment's private time must be sacrificed to the giant corporate leech. A box file, its lid open and resting against the cubicle door, bore along its spine, the legend IT Strategy Implementation Plan Reports; the sound of turning pages said all that needed to be said.
This, I fear, is the thin end of the wedge; how long before we have Wi - Fi points alongside the porcelain and those few most private of moments are disturbed by the chatter of laptop keystrokes from behind closed doors.