Quirkplace Relations

Sydney Morning Herald

Saturday September 13, 2008

Jenny Tabakoff

Our days are much duller without the eccentrics, writes Jenny Tabakoff.

Psychologists say difficult personalities in the workplace can be divided into 11 categories: the locomotive, the perfectionist, the ice-person-resister, the not-my-job-er, the rumour-monger, the pessimist, the uncommitted, the criticiser, the crybaby, the sacrificer and the self-castigator.

Yes, I can identify some "no buts, just do it" locomotives and "I liked it better the old way" resisters. But if we're down to just 11 problem types, the office is a poorer place. Workplaces were once crammed with crazy, lazy people. They didn't do much but they were entertaining.

Gone, now, are the erudite women who ate cake and did cryptic crosswords. I worked among some: they did a bit of typing but spent seven of their eight hours sociably fathoming clues. Lovely women. The little I know about cryptic crosswords, I owe to them.

Productivity drives have demolished many congenial work practices. A friend who worked for a utility company (pre-privatisation) recalls a colleague who did nothing but run an astrology business. Someone else managed a brothel. Today's equivalents are tame. There might be a few people doing eBay deals in office time but the glory days are gone.

Someone I know used to have a clerical job with duties so light, so unobserved, that she spent virtually every working hour planning her wedding. It took nine months. The wedding ran like clockwork, then she resigned. Others were even more ingenious. A friend, when in a dusty and forgotten corner of the public service, became fascinated by an old photo of Sydney Harbour on his wall. The print was large enough to make out ships' names, so he and an offsider decided to work out when the picture had been taken. Their research was unstinting, involving analysis of shipping records and shadow angles. They eventually narrowed down the year, month, week, day and hour of the snap.

The word "productivity" meant little. My student job at an amusement park allowed for hours of reading, doodling and daydreaming. One day I calculated how many tickets it would take to cover my booth, and their value: about $3000.

The mugs in many offices bore the slogan, "You don't have to be mad to work here, but it helps," but equally they could have read "You don't have to work here to work here". Every office had its underachieving eccentric who, for no reason, might suddenly waltz you around the room. Elsewhere you could reliably identify the groper, the serial bonker and the puffer, whose only skill was lighting one cigarette from the stub of another.

Then there were the drinkers (filing cabinets full of empty bottles) and the long lunchers. The drama queens were red-eyed and constantly running to the ladies'. The office nannas would follow them, then spread the gossip. The master idlers were those who managed never to be at their desks. They could disappear for hours on a mission, armed with only pen, paper and an important expression.

Gone, all gone. The time-and-motion people did their work too well. How long since anyone said, "Slow down. You'll show the rest of us up"? Too long, unfortunately.

Now back to work, all of you.

© 2008 Sydney Morning Herald

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