The two solitudes of workplace
There are, indeed, two parallel universes. After centuries of scientific speculation and enquiry, and extensive conceptual and creative exploration through the arts, it’s taken the comparatively minor world of Workplace to prove it. Of course, it needed the prompt of a global pandemic to reveal itself. As the trains steadily begin to fill — on a Tuesday, at least — and the strip lights burn off the layer of accumulated dust, the steady flow of returnees has highlighted what most had forgotten — that the office pretty much looks and works like it did when it was abandoned in haste. And, in the main, so do we.
The first universe is filled huge ideas, but only a few. They’re the sort of ideas that potentially turn everything we once knew on its head.
Like considerations of whether the office has any future at all, how we relate office working to the majority of roles that remain location-dependent, whether technology can sufficiently replicate the richness of human interaction required to enable us to work together, whether we can be truly innovative and creative while not in one another’s immediate company, how we adapt to comparative social isolation over time, how we ensure that when we need to be in the presence of one another we can manage to do so in the right place at the right time, how we balance the opportunities afforded by significantly increased freedom and choice with the risks of negatively impacting those for whom structure and routine are essential, the possibility of a four-day week with its evident benefits and lurking pitfalls, and the effects on our wider urban environments — both central and local — of a significant shift in working patterns.
As with political discourse, we’ve seen a polarisation of attitudes in respect of each and the clustering of unlikely, and at times uncomfortable, coalitions at either end of the dumbbell. Often pitched through social media channels as the inevitable tide of human-centric progress versus stubborn, uninformed and deluded resistance, the distortion created by the bubbles through which we view so many of these issues is painfully evident. The offer of nuance and context, at the core of each of these issues, is duly lambasted as pandering and compromise.
The importance of this universe is over-stated, its significance under-appreciated. The issues are beyond our ability to shape alone, albeit we have influence. Yet just because we think a certain way and so do our connections it doesn’t make it the default. Our pattern-and-pathway seeking instincts will enable us to navigate the trends and direction, to find the advantage in disappointment. We downplay how unbelievably resourceful we are.
The second universe is filled with a multitude of tiny ideas, either in themselves or proportionally. We’re seen a swathe of speculation about what we should be wearing when back in the office with proclamations of both the death and re-birth of formality. If anyone is actually bothered they’re clearly in the latter camp. We’re already bemoaning the noisy buggers who make open-plan living intolerable, because when we all used the office as a primary place of work — for both focus and interaction — noise was usually the main source of frustration when we tried to do the former. According to an FT article the primary cause of anxiety from noise at the office is down to “other people talking”. Which all seems rather preposterous given the reason for us now wanting to spend some of our time in the office is for interaction and social connectivity, the stuff we can’t do as well at home. Unless it’s organised as a silent disco there’s going to be a fair amount of joyous blah for the foreseeable future. Which means it won’t be long before we’re back to free-range guilt-free open-plan baiting through just about every mainstream media channel available. If there’s been one quietly appreciated benefit of enforced home working it’s been the absence of this tedious pursuit. With pressure on the cost of prime real estate from less regular attendance as many exercise their new-found freedom to choose, we can expect to see even more desire on the part of organisations to extract value from an increasingly scarce resource.
Yet these issues are likely to result in little beyond expressed irritation. They’ll annoy and galvanise, we’ll see spikes of passion in the articulation of a view, but not the dysfunctional alliances or active campaigns across the impenetrable divide. It’s a more oscillating, iterative and human universe. We can put the dry clean stuff on one day and the non-iron garb the next and we won’t have to examine our conscience or principles. We’ll complain (under our breathe, naturally) about the noise one day and be the one making it the next.
The significance of this universe is over-stated, its importance under-appreciated. The issues are accessible, tangible, invasive. Everyone has a view on these matters borne of experience, a fact that the industry tends to forget on occasion when attempting to straighten out the contradictions. Myself included.
Separate universes, however, they look likely to remain. Two blissful solitudes, unconnected and unaware of one another. We may pass between them and return at will. When we surface, we just need to take a moment to recognise which we’re in before we unpack. We wouldn’t want to be embarrassed. Or embarrassing.
