"When Gregor Samsa awoke from his troubled dreams, he found himself employed by a multinational corporation."
Having been exposed to the writing of Franz Kafka at the tender age of eight, I was fully prepared for life in the office. Not that I regret it, because here, I am in my element. Time-wasters, procrastinators and slackers – call us what you may, because only the most blatant culprits ever get caught. The fact is that most of us slip through the net, because we hide behind an air of professionalism.
The glass and steel of the business environment, this illusion of openness and transparency – it is all just a lie: it is in fact a dark impenetrable maze that would have made even the most depraved Byzantine Empresses blush. Just think of it, the names of the meeting rooms and the offices have been chosen with time-wasting in mind: instead of functional names, they are instead given pseudo-motivational labels such as Serendipity, Synchronicity, Solipsism or Surreptitiousness – making them impossible to find.
–Where are you going?
–I'm having an appraisal meeting with Ms Wong in Sublimation, it's the newly-refurbished meeting room opposite Salaciousness.
Just like these names serve to waste time and create confusion, the bureaucracy and anonymity of a large company provide us with ample opportunity for avoiding responsibilities. The more professional you look, the less actual duties you will actually need to perform, and on top of the food chain are those of us who perform purely ceremonial duties like the director of Public Relations or the Queen of England.
The dress code undoubtedly plays a big part: professional attire gives us the camouflage that will make us blend in with the office furniture or the PowerPoint presentation in the background. And behind our seemingly business-like manners of speech lies a Derren Brown-like deception: everything is simply about making you trust me so that I can take your money. Or wasting your time.
Once you accept and embrace these basic facts of life, you will reach enlightenment.
The big problem is just how to get hold of a bloody stapler when you need one.
The Daoist Immortals
In our very midst, there are those who slavishly adhere to the Daoist work ethic. Blessed with an astonishing ability to do absolutely nothing for unlimited periods of time, I am of course talking about the a-yis and shifus of the office. Having survived for decades in a communist society, they have learnt all the tricks in the book when it comes to avoiding work. They have been a part of the office building for as far as anyone can remember, so they are virtually invincible. They might very well be dragons or fox-spirits in disguise. And they know the ultimate secret: hard-work never pays – if it did, it would have been illegal.
An inexperienced manager might try to make them redundant, but the truth is that they can't be fired: they are the only ones who know where to find the keys to the secret relic chamber known as the fuse box.
They are also the guardian deities of the office supplies, without which the entire company would grind to a halt. For those colleagues attempting to get some actual work done (i.e. the idiots), getting hold of basic office equipment – such as stationery – is a complete nightmare.
Those cold-hearted bastards have not yet realised how serious the budget constraints imposed upon our Daoist saints are: if they hand out fewer board markers and Post-it notes, the more money they will have in their meagre pension fund.
You would expect them to get angry if you asked them for anything; but instead, these kind spirits will meet every request with a smile, and heartfelt apology. "Come again tomorrow, then maybe one stapler will have appeared – as if by magic!" You should by now have taken that subtle hint. If you want to get hold of anything, the "backdoor" [后门] is the only way that works. Give them a bottle of beer. Help them avoid work. Sit down and listen to them reminiscing. Most importantly, never wake them up unless there is a real emergency.
The Office Move
For time-wasters, the biannual office move is one of those treasured opportunities to avoid work. There might be some management theory behind constantly moving people around in a seemingly random fashion, but most probably it's just the unavoidable result of the person responsible not being very so.
You're getting expelled from your comfy little corner of the office, and now you have move quickly: the Darwinian nature of the office environment means that there is a constant scramble for sparse resources. Getting hold of basic items such as desk drawers, power cords or even a new desk will require cunning and duplicity – even outright theft. Here lies a paradox: if you don't want to waste time getting hold of these items, it will seem like you're not working. After all, without a power cord, you won't be able to plug in your computer. On the other hand, the lengthy process of finding the necessary equipment has an enormous time-wasting potential.
Some people moan about the lack of cleaning: whoever had the desk before them invariably spilt coffee and correction fluid on it – perhaps even filthier things – and as you might expect, the ayi will politely refuse to clean it up.
However, if you are a true believer in the Daoist work ethic, the filth should not lead to fury; instead, create a meaningless task for yourself in order to avoid work. Even if you are the messiest person around, you have to make sure that your old desk as well as the one you're moving to Is completely spotless. There is this Zen tranquillity that can be achieved from these pointless cleaning tasks – especially if they are done in a loud enough way to annoy your colleagues and make your superiors believe that you are a tidy and responsible person.
Rat droppings
Obviously, the desk drawers themselves will not be impeccably clean, either. Underneath a thick layer of dust, there will be some interesting surprises, such as stains of cooking oil and rat droppings. The person from whom you inherited the desk drawers probably had a penchant for eating duck feet, oily crisps or marmite, which means that all your important documents will be covered in in grease if you don't clean every imaginable surface with an industrial strength disinfectant.
Obviously, the ridiculous amount of snacks kept in the drawers will invariably attract rats. And of course, the people in charge of keeping the premises clean will do nothing about the rats. "Rats you say? Haha! By Jove!" After all, if you put out rat poison, you will have to deal with dead rats instead, which would cause more alarm and disgust than any live rodents in hiding. At least the rats are tactful enough to stay out of sight during office hours – unlike your boss.
Some people might despair, but we should remain calm and positive at all times: at least rats are mammals; their feelings are easier to understand than, say, cockroaches.
And there is a positive aspect of rat droppings as well: they can be used to make the office a more interesting place. Simply pick them up using tweezers and put them on a sensitive colleague's desk. With the correct set-up, the commotion created by this simple operation will wipe out at least half an hour of productive time in your department.
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: The views expressed in the above post are not in any way views expressed by any particular person, living or dead. In fact, these views have not been expressed at all; they are just figments of your imagination. This means that you are the actual author, and that you – by reading this – now acknowledge full responsibility for the views expressed.
Likewise, the "Ms Wong" mentioned in the text is purely fictitious. Her real name is Cheung.
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