There’s a scene in “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” where Walter’s boss (Adam Scott) mocks Walter for having the Stretch Armstrong doll. I’m trying to find it on YouTube. That scene popped into my mind as I watched.
Adam Scott was SO good as the dick boss in that movie, btw.
Stop spoiling my new workplace by working there!
Um actually it’s not an action figure, it’s a figurine.
Jesus, was your job in hell? Seriously where do they dictate you can only have two personal items on your desk? The military? What kind of place does that to people?
Whatever. Mom wants you to clean up your dolls by dinnertime.
Reminds me a bit of American Psycho. How many bodies are buried under his immaculate, Scandinavian design floorboards at home?
also
christ, what an asshole!
Yep. Three different issues.
Securing confidential information is obviously very important, but the memo scarcely mentions it. Unless the author of the memo is totally incompetent, I’ll assume that the subject is dealt with in detail elsewhere.
Coffees stains on desktops are a trivial problem, and easily remedied with an occasional application of a damp sponge – or more realistically, with a damp paper towel, which is less efficient. Overflowing bins means that you’re skimping on janitorial services. It shouldn’t take much effort to establish a baseline of how much waste your staff produces and how often the bins need to be emptied. These are the things you hire janitorial staff to take care of, because by focusing on the task and using proper tools, they can do it more efficiently. Duh.
Of course, it’s the action figures that everyone reacts to most – and the photos of the workspaces. And my impulse, on looking at those spaces, is to imagine what I could put on the walls and tables and workstations to make it feel like actual human beings work there. The few times I’ve seen places so pristine, either people had just moved in a day or two before, or it was a horrible soul-destroying place (moreso than usual) where no one worked for more than a few weeks.
Tangent: my stepson gave me a toy tribble for Christmas. I looked at it, and immediately said I’d put it on my desk at work. He asked if people would think that was weird, and I said, of course not. Everyone at work is a nerd. They all know about tribbles. So, naturally, a few days after I put my tribble on my desk (in its box, marked “Star Trek”, “Tribble”, and “Do Not Feed”), a manager walked by and asked what it was. He’d never watched Star Trek.
Wired? Whoa. I remember that magazine!
If you don’t want coffee stains and overflowing wastebaskets, you shouldn’t have downsized the housekeeping staff.
Honestly, if I got a memo from the CEO talking about action figures being wrong for the desk, I’d be sorely tempted to have one made up of Calvin taking a dump in the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet.
Securing confidential information is obviously very important, but the
memo scarcely mentions it. Unless the author of the memo is totally
incompetent, I’ll assume that the subject is dealt with in detail
elsewhere.
It likely is covered elsewhere. My point was more that mentioning it in a tirade like this doesn’t help whoever is supposed to enforce such policies. Too many messages, as you mentioned. Also, too much of an overall demeaning tone. Not a good way to get people to respond positively.
Magazines? Hey, I think my dad remembers reading those!
The shutterstock previews are a lovely accompaniment. Poor quality, superficially realised impressions of a perfect corporate environment, unmarred by the filthy paws and drooling slack jaws of actual human beings.
If people are going to leave their secrets on their desks, we’re not going to have janitorial services in this office. Folks, It’s that simple.
It’s not, because you can sue your employer for asking you to rip your dick/tits off.
I have done work for the founders of Wired magazine. This does not seem out of character, given how they behaved and how their new/non-Wired offices were set up.
He does. Your mom was telling me about them.
keep that up, and you’re gonna put me outta work
