Dust from the walls of institutions….

 An open letter to Jeremy Paxman

Dear Jeremy

This is a reply to your article in the Guardian of 12 September.

You have certainly woken up the “open plan” agitati again, just when we thought that every journalist and commentator with a personal gripe and the privilege of access to a mainstream media channel had got it off their chest. I really thought the witch trials were over.

If I were a king for a day there would certainly be other more pressing matters than “open plan”. Perhaps this suggests an exhausted agenda on your part, or a desire for not too taxing an eight hours on the throne (with an hour for lunch). That you have never met anyone who likes open plan offices probably says more about the circles in which you mix than open plan offices, so perhaps royalty is not too distant a wish. While you clearly have frustrations at not finding an office with your name on the door and the cloying smell of Pledge in the air, your position is flawed in a number of respects.

Firstly, like so many others, you entangle “open plan” (sharing desks) with a flexible workplace (a wide range of space settings for everything you do in a working day – including a quiet chat with a channel controller), and your reluctance to research or identify the difference (as so often is the case) undermines your position. The beneficial unintended consequence here might just be a helpful nudge to the workplace industry toward more clarity on the difference so that when commentators such as yourself take up arms you at least are aware of against what. Then we might all have a more productive discussion.

Secondly, you consider that the modern workplace is a plot against human dignity, a weapon of oppression. While there may be the odd tyrant hiding in the light, most organisations that have invested considerable sums in workplace rennovation – the BBC amongst them – have engaged with their staff, enhanced and enriched the facilities available, and created a vastly improved experience aimed at bringing colleagues together for the benefit of themselves and the corporate body. In doing so, they show clearly that people matter. As with all such investments there has to be a commercial proposition (shareholders would rightly demand it), and the solutions on offer are not without the odd flight of fancy or rare but regrettable reversion to an immersive kindergarten. But those of us in the wider workplace discipline are committed to improving the outcome for all – we willingly share our IP, passion, creativity and commitment in the cause of improving the working life of as many as possible.

Finally, you offer nothing in return. The implied alternative is either a reversion to long and silent corridors and the “inexorable sadness of pencils” (Roethke) – or a crippling and unsustainable investment in real estate. Or, perhaps, just a glossy rendition of the past. I am old enough to have worked in de-humanised environments in which the number of window bays depicted your worth, where you could arrive, work all day and leave without saying a word to – or even seeing – another living soul – and you could die in your office and it take several days for anyone to notice. It was the institutionalised sadness of these desolate halls that inspired me to do something about it.

The one chink of light in your piece was the comment about coatstands – strangley, its one of the “little things” I often nag designers about, that are so often forgotten until the first monsoon after move-in. We really must sweat the small stuff, or it consumes the big ideas.

If you were king for a day, you would (with thankfully very few remaining exceptions) soon realise that you were gifted only a ceremonial role. What a blessed relief.

Yours sincerely


Word up

Perhaps it has something to do with the word itself, but we are disciplined to think in disciplines. The categorisation is helpful to us, as much as it makes us lazy and narrowminded. We unconsciously describe ourselves in these terms, we join collective and protective bodies, derive pride from association, jointly create myth, and approach others from disciplines not our own with suspicion and caution. Some bodies even have exams so you can earn the right to your discipline, and thereby accentuate all of these behaviours. There must be at least fifty ways to stuff a shirt.

I even wrote a post a while ago claiming that Workplace is a discipline, made up of ideas from a multitude of other disciplines. I stand by it, on the superficial level of the idea of disciplines.

When I attended the second HR unconference several years ago, I was asked what interest a property person had in all of this stuff (and if I played guitar). My response was that we were all looking at the same stuff, just from a different direction. But what is it all?

Its the social, ourselves and our relations: culture, community, the language we use and the way we use it, our interactions (face to face and through social tools), our stories, art and expression, skills, attributes, learing and development. The physical, that which we conceive, design, create and subsequently relate to: the wider urban environment, workplace, technical infrastructure and the software and applications that make it usable and accessible. And the obligatory, the mesh that provides a degree of governance: laws, regulations, title, IP, employment, norms, behaviours, morality and etiquette. Broad, arguable strands.

We fixate on the artificial constructs we erect to provide us with permission to consider these facets, and a language of expression peculiar to each. But the point of the post is not another silo-bashing exercise, but the question of what all this stuff is, collectively. We don’t actually have a word for it. Neither do the Greeks, I checked. The disciplines would rather not have a word for it, given their inherent interest in self-preservation.

There are few occasions in life when one needs to invite the deconstructivists in. The children of Jacques Derrida hold that there is no possibility of intrinsic or stable meaning, of absolute truth, and that consequently most words we use have meaning only in their counter-effect with others. Something is “hot”, for example, because it is not “cold”. For this reason they suggest that new terms are a necessity, to get us away from this problem – new terms have no opposites. Not the ubiquitous and regrettable modern tendency to dig up old ideas, re-badge them and claim its something new – but new terms entirely, with new meaning. Jon Husband’s “wirearchy” is a great example. So we have our permission.

So what are we going to call all this social, physical and obligatory stuff that we view through the frames of our disciplines? I offer logasphere. Loga is Hindi for people, and has a helpful softness and ease. Sphere because it is a domain. I specifically resisted the fad for the biological. I ran it past my regular sanity-checker, Perry Timms, who has already claimed to be the first known logaholic.

Whether you are in HR, workplace, property, communications, technology, occupational health, or finance, its likely you’re thinking about and acting in the logasphere. I would happily bury this for a better word – but its at least time we gave ourselves the chance of a common understanding.

Now, at last, we can peel off our labels.


Turtles all the way down

Everywhere you look, the workplace is under attack. Its calm presence as a binder of people, creator of opportunity, opportunity for creativity and home-from-home leaving the home as a home is being challenged from all angles.

A week rarely passes where I am not required to pitch in on behalf of the workplace, reinforcing its vital importance to an organisation, and why exceptional design from a thorough brief can bring about a beneficially transformative effect.

So who are the multitude so arrayed, who would bring about such harm?

Trivialists, who are unable to separate the word “cool” from the term “workplace”, and deny that any workplace even actually exists unless it has appeared in its expansive, pristine, just-PC’d shadow-peopled gloss in Forbes or Fast Company. Like a Miu Miu handbag or a Pekinese, the office is useful only as a fashion appendage, ergo, it isn’t useful. Sorry, your Centurion Card is not being accepted, do you have any broken mirrors?

Generationalists, who want to turn the office into a primary colour-clad rubberised playpen where flexible mums (never dads, of course) can share their emotional exhaustion over a watery latte while watching their offspring experiment safely with responsibility and initiative, and still be home in time for tea. Bath and bed, with no story.

Futurists, those for whom such a narcissistic job title can only be auto-imposed, who believe the workplace will be a self-charging virtual, dispersed and vaporous dreamstate, in which we rapturously transact gift and goodwill, while we remain at home hardwired into the nespresso. But what do they know, eh?

Horizontalists, who want to dismantle the structures on which the workplace totters, breaking down silos, deconstructing definitions, blurring boundaries, and diluting the contribution of the central place of work. Its all apparently “beyond ther workplace”. Unbeknown to them however, although the world is perched on the back of an elephant, its turtles all the way down.

Culturalists, who believe that culture trumps design when it comes to determining the form of the phsyical working environment. The strength of the hand lies principally in the casting of fear from challenging the contribution of culture. Amid the deepening of voices, lowering of chins, furrowing of brows and banding of South Bank Show vocabularie, lurks a fundamental problem: they have no idea what culture means, let alone how it determines the form of the phsyical working environment. What does it all meme?

Googlists, who think that every workplace should deploy every colour in the known spectrum, every item of furniture in every catalogue ever produced, and everything for sale on eBay that has no other practical use or possible buyer. Because when your brief is that open, nothing can possibly be wrong, and anyone can do it as long as they’re wearing fancy dress.

Fortunately, those assembled in the flodden fields are disorganised, disunited, and generally in disagreement with one other. The odd skirmish keeps the workplace sharp. When it all really kicks off though, we’ll be glad of the turtles.


Barefoot in the heart: part 9, the FM

me I”m an FM its a profession of course qualification accolade badge and recognition we’re the hidden force the key in the ignition we keep you housed lit safe portered secure warm fed caffeinated and watered of course its not about bricks and mortar now but service even though it all revolves around the buffed and branded headquarter polished knobs on the top floor and the occasional respite of a shard of daylight in the basement which we call lower ground makes it sound more humane for the urbane department but get two #of us FM’s in a room and we’ll argue all night about what it means like a definition would actually make a difference but its a distraction from following the intuition that’s dragged us up from perdition while some folks at the institution are having afternoon tea with the CPID for Rich Tea and credibility but some at the thin end of the normal distribution think their body is just a pingback in history to an earlier stage of evolution now they’re post-cupcake social and they don’t seem to have got excited about the prenuptial and its no mystery that the HR folk at base never speak to me being operational is so constipational we’ve climbed the thirty one practices to strategy stepped right over tactical in the ascent because no-one knew what it meant albeit seems we did so in our imagination because corporate lovetrain’s left the station no-one here to explain we’ll catch the last one when it comes round again but in my heart I am barefoot as there’s nothing I couldn’t surpass if I could just get this target off my arse if my back’s to the wall or I’m seated its the only way I don’t feel like the walking defeated while the beancounters have us spreadsheeted and receipted but we know there’s value in the occasional smile or softly spoken thank you for the extra mile that’s always expected my only seat at the table the one I ordered and got to unpack before the meeting started I’ll try it when everyone’s departed but its a long old weft just hope they were too busy talking than eating and there’s a flapjack left


Great journeys of our time: Milton Keynes to Soho

Without doubt, the most consistently restrictive feature of workplace design in the decade of social enlightenment has been the straight line. It is a management panacea. The application of the shortest route between two points has enabled workplaces to be created simply and quickly, to be managed easily and at the lowest possible cost. and to complement and reinforce control structures. They can be planned, understood, changed, flexed and maintained on a spreadsheet.

And so we start our journey at the town designed on the ruler’s edge, Milton Keynes.

The dream was made flesh in 1967. Initially intended to be a new town of a quarter of a million people that would gift a wealth of lakes, parkland, planting, footpaths and cycleways, it would avoid the problems associated with previous attempts at “garden cities” and offer an antidote to Burgessesque polluted, congested, high-rise, fragmented urbania, a chance of a better life. Liz Leyh’s “Concrete Cows” – the installation that became the town’s de facto brand – was just one piece amongst the largest collection of contemporary sculpture in the UK.

Much of it came to pass. You can get from one side of town to the other in just fifteen minutes, travel 180 miles of footpaths and bridleways, live in an energy efficient house peacefully set away from the main road network, and spend time at any of its fifteen lakes in the 20% of the town’s land that is open space. All alongside one of the youngest average metropolitan populations in the country.

There are some dubiously soulless contributions too. The UK’s first… motorway service station, multiplex, drive-through fast-food outlet, and covered shopping mall.

Does this sound like the identikit brief for the new golden dream of the modern workplace? Clean and tidy, biscected by easy passage, generic, predictable, open and visible, grid-planned and prescriptive, socially contained, facilitating convenience and instant gratification, topped off with a misplaced focus on younger generations?

Yet what we want lies at the destination of our journey. Unfashionable in the 17th Century when its name first appeared, Soho became the chosen destination for immigrant Huguenot tailors and silversmiths. By the 19th Century they were joined by musical halls, small theatres and prostitutes. This cocktail of the creative and the unsavoury created a natural home for artists and intellectuals, By the 1950’s it had become the home of beatnik culture, and in 1958 the opening of the Marquee put it on the tour map. The relaxation of the censorship laws in 2000 significantly contracted the red light area, allowing Soho to consolidate its heady mix of independent and diverse theatre, fashion, art, cool-end retail, music, fringe religion, entertainment and creative industry.

Does this sound more like the workplace you would want to work in? All curves, surprises, colour, discovery, intricacy, intimacy, comfort, art, fascination, change? Where you can influence the outcome, where if you dont like what is around one corner you can simply find another? Where you can meet if you want to and where you want to – or just be alone, hidden, undisturbed, in a part of the weave that’s “yours”? Where not everything is within the rules?

But Soho isn’t planned, and is extremely difficult and expensive to manage and maintain. People will do their own thing, get lost, do stuff they’re not supposed to, maybe not be there at all. They may not even need you.

Having spoken of this several times before in passing and intending to write this piece, it was timely read Neil Morrison’s take on the theme in a recent post, in regard to HR: “We provide very little choice in organisations, very little flexibility and very little responsibility. Instead we standardise, homogenise, process and commoditise the employment relationship. Partly because it makes things easy for us, partly because it retains control”

While this post started out looking at the physical workplace, its point can be applied to the wider working environment. We have no straight lines in our body, nor our mind. We can’t even draw a straight line unaided. We are organic, chaotic, surprising. Our environment needs to reflect this, rather than trying to compensate for it.

While linear, predictable Milton Keynes is easier to design, procure, manage, view, control, flex, re-organise, close and dispose, and where the grass is greener, the air fresher and the path clearer, it is haywire, soulful, intense and unpredictable Soho that lies at our journey’s end.

We want Soho, but build and manage Milton Keynes – and ask ourselves why it isn’t working. It may be time to sit outside Bar Italia with a double espresso one morning, and resolve to do something different.


Putting out fire (with gasoline)

“A plague I call a heartbeat” – 
David Bowie, “Cat People”

The Economist blogger Schumpeter recently proposed decluttering the company. I see lots of sage expressions, nodding heads. No-one would openly propose “cluttering” it up any more than it is, would they? Promising start, then.

Along with some annoyingly useful data supporting what we already know to be true (like we spend an increasingly greater proportion of our time in meetings and that many have little purpose – well, raise my rent) was the uncharacteristically preposterous suggestion that “spring cleaning needs to be reinforced by policies to stop the clutter accumulating in the first place”. Even though the clutter is already here.

A CEO at a company I used to work for talked about “lightening the backpack” (his was later removed altogether), and the article referenced “organisational load”, a term used by Boeing amongst others to refer to the weight of meetings, communication and initiatives preventing employees from being productive and creative. Good, we have a target.

But to suggest that the way to counter the daily gunk of the modern organisation is with more gunk is the sort of suggestion that has one glancing upwards for the nearest light fitting capable of taking your bodyweight.

A “policy” is one of the hardest things to get approved in most large organisations, given it is part of the ever-more pervasive governance framework. Imagine the spine-and-spirit crushing weight of the team formation, meetings, drafting, audit checks, politicking and positioning (people wanting “in” if its looks promising, “out” when it takes a wrong turn), submissions and re-submissions (after re-drafting and many more meetings) and finally the Board ratification of the end result that by the time several other departments played topiary with it, resembled nothing that left the final project team approval meeting – and weep softly. We understand, we shall weep with you.

The last thing the world needs is another bloody policy. They are the plague we call a heartbeat. Even if all it does is instruct meetings to stop if they are going off track (thank you for that gem, Lenovo – how useful can a tangent be after all?). Revelation – we can do something about it. Ourselves. A litte more common sense, a little more courage, and a slightly more determined voice when things look daft, and we will all carry a little less weight.

Try and put that in a policy, and we’re all on the fire.

Bill & Ted’s excellent workplace

Since 1989, the idea of our being “excellent to each other” has scythed its way like industrial detergent through the congealed grease of our thinking on work, management and leadership.

Nothing new here – the expression has appeared in numerous blog posts over the years and bubbled its way through countless after-five lager-lubricated conversations. Yet when we’re done proclaiming that its about all there is or needs to be, we still seem collectively a little nervous and embarassed that it could actually be the case. Especially as the script for the whole film was written by hand in just four days. There must be a more grown-up way of saying it?

Well, not really.

And then along comes an article that takes our inability to keep things simple right down to the Abyssal Zone.

Apparently “the new buzzwords on every workplace designer’s tongue are incubation, cross-pollination, symbiosis….” – who the heck are these people? If I ever see any of those words in a pitch, its over, there and then. All three together will merit a special outcome. I should add that if you are actually interested in this kind of thing, there is an excellent glossary of stuff you could raid here. Its where I found “Abyssal Zone”. Easy isn’t it?

So consider that if we design and create our workplace so that it supports us being excellent to each other, we actually have it cracked. It requires that we explain what being excellent means in equally simple terms, not those embarrassingly borrowed from deservedly far more complex disciplines to make us sound smart.

If our workplace allows us to respond to the individual and social needs of our colleagues and has enough of everything so as not to create tension in the exercising of our choices, if its reasonable quality, if it allows us to get a decent drink and eat something healthy, if all the tech works so we don’t vent our frustration on the next person to ask us a tricky question, then we have a place that helps us be excellent to each other.

That’s scary to a lot of workplace practitioners, thinkers and designers. Imagine having to admit that all of the energy and cash spent on research, experimentation and installations actually boiled down to a throwaway line from a goofy geek-flick. I wonder if its ever shown up in a pitch?

We’re people, not lichen or plants. We’re just looking out for each other, while hoping to stay happy, get better at what we do, and learn something useful in the process. Then everybody benefits, whatever fauxcracy happens to be governing our domain. We really should stop looking for the next scientific term to explain what happens between us. That’s actually far more embarassing than quoting Bill and Ted.


The idea of an unstructured event of some form that brings together work, workplace, social business and people-centred thinking emerged from the amazing connetctinghr, and is probably at least a couple of years old. Its logo owes much to conversation with (its creator) Simon Heath and Mark Eltringham, and the most recent atempts to make something happen with Doug Shaw and Perry Timms (to name a few) centred on the idea of a sort of open-mic session occurring simultaneously in London and Manchester.

But it was in a chance e-mail exchange with Perry about an event coming up next year that the idea of what workstock is finally landed: a pop-up event, a plug-in if you will, that happens at other events.

The closest metaphor I can think of is the Barbarians. All of those playing will for a fleeting moment don the luminescence of the shirt, but get to wear their own socks.

And so workstock makes its first appearance as an hour-long pecha kucha session at Workplace Trends on 15 October in London, featuring seven (yep) exceptional thinkers on work, workplace and social business. There may even be a few more to add, if they can make it. I will leave it to the organisers to tell you more, but for now here is a little more on workstock:

What it is

  • An ever-evolving idea – it has no form or structure, no organisation of any form – not even one of those altogether-modern fauxcracies that dig up old ideas and re-badge them
  • A trojan mouse – this post best describes what I mean
  • An invitation for anyone with an idea to get involved and take part – but please bear in mind it wont come chasing you, its up to you to get involved
  • Irregular – no programme, no timetable, no pressing need to exist at all – it just has to be right
  • Ephemeral – with an indeterminate life – either we’ll know when its done, or it just won’t interest anyone anymore (If it even does now, that may just be a little presumptuous)

What its not

  • A movement – the market for movements is more saturated than otter’s cravat, the planet really doesn’t need another one
  • A hashtag – the tag is the host conference or event that it supports, promotes and respects by using its hashtag
  • An industry-specific or multi-industry idea – because many of those taking part or who will take part don’t belong to anything or any specific industry, so that’s all irrelevant
  • A competitor – its not intended to replace or upstage anything or anyone, only to complement others
  • Disruptive – because that’s just such an over-used, lank term for safe, middle class rebellion
  • A vehicle for anything or anyone – the minute it threatens to become so, its over
  • A receptacle for an idea – the ideas are those of the participants, it has no “shell” phiolosophy of its own, and won’t be lobbying parliament anytime soon

So there it is. Or, rather, here it comes.


24-hour putty people

There has been a huge amount written about the benefits of storytelling in the organisational and commercial world, paradoxically most of it dank and lacking any vitality. So much of what people believe to be stories are not. Going beyond the “beginning, middle and the end” of our earliest years being made to sit in front of a piece of ruled paper and write something interesting to order, perhaps its the case that the components of a great story are also those of a fantastic workplace.

Steven James, prolific author and tutor of these things refers to a story as “a transformation unveiled”. Think about your workplace in that context for a moment. I should add that he also says “you don’t have a story until something goes wrong”. Again, you should be on the money, or you’re not being honest with yourself.

And so a story – and a workplace – should have the following….

A setting, an orientation – the context into which all of the characters are placed, and the reason for everyone and everything being there, wherever “there” may be. History, chance, co-incidence, or something else entirely. At this point we create our emotional connection, such that we want to stay with it. There has to be a reason to get out of bed in the morning, as there has to be to turn the page.

Characters – in which Steven James’ description of pebble people and putty people is wonderful. When thrown at a wall, a pebble bounces off – nothing happens to it, it remains the same. Putty on the other hand changes shape, and so we watch closely how, and want to keep throwing it. Forget traditional delineations in the workplace, just think about the pebble people and putty people you know, and how they interact.

Plot(s) – external struggles that need to be overcome, and internal struggles that need to be resolved. The workplace is an incredibly complex weave of plot, rendering it fascinating, frustrating and addictive. Perhaps too much of modern syrupy thought is directed at dissolving the drama in the human condition, flattening our emotional peaks until no more than foothills, stripping every fibre from our reflexes. Consider, perhaps people keep checking their e-mails not for the usual hand-wrung reasons, but because they need to know what’s happening. Because they “can’t put it down”.

Something unexpected – prompted by a discovery, something that will never be the same again. The reason stories are so often not stories is because nothing happens that changes everything, on whatever scale “everything” may be measured. In the workplace that could be reflected through the physical – features and aesthetics that alter the way we behave individually or towards others – or the personal – breakthroughs or accidents (beneficial, as well as negative) that bring progress, benefit or an altered state of understanding. Workplace design thinking has for many years fixated upon creating unexpected forms, and helping spawn the unexpected in us all.

A message – a lasting thought, idea or image, a visual or emotional imprint – conscious or unconscious – or a changed perspective. Something that means that while being absorbed in transformative events, YOU have been changed by the story. Just as the experience of our workplace renders us changed. The environments we create – physical and human – should leave us amongst other things more enlightened, more empathetic, more self-aware. They should help shape us – provided we allow ourselves to be shaped.

It may be time to rediscover the drama in ourselves, and in the environments we create. Because we won’t have a workplace until something goes wrong.

NOT the “living wage” workplace

At the other end of the spectrum from the previous post are a number of features of modern workplaces that may just not be worth the expense and bother, and actually mitigate against a better workplace for all: either we spend all of the money on the wrong things, or the frightening cost of the stuff we are told we “need” prevents it happening at all. Here are a few offenders:

The double-height reception – a feature that performs no function whatsoever other than making those attending the building feel small – the smaller and less significant the better, like characters in Orson Welles’ “The Trial”. This is usually accentuated by large, wasted open spaces occupied by a designer chair you are made to feel too “small” to sit at. The better option: make the reception part of the living, working space. Perhaps put it somewhere unexpected – let visitors see the workspace first – what you are all about – and then welcome them deeper into the space.

The Boardroom – the most luxuriantly furnished room in the building with a table buffed with hair from a badger’s backside, rectangularly set to articulate traditional power structures, for the occasional attendance of a group who (with one or two exceptions) only work a few days a year for the organisation. The better option: the “Boardroom” can be any room. If the Board use a room that the rest of the employees use, it may also help them understand a little more about the organisation.

Marble – the “flares” of the architectural world, a finish associated with sophistication and taste as recently as classical times, it now just looks ostentatious and ridiculous. It is the ultimate symbol of bad taste and needless expense. Like flares, there are occasionally minor campaigns to reinstate its viability, but fortunately all fail. There really is no justification. At all. The better option: anything cheaper.

Lighting control systems – when you need diagrammatic instructions to turn lights on and off, when you’re presented with a choice of sixteen different scene sets, or when you need to wave your arms around to tell the energy-conserving “brain” that you’re still in the room but not engaged in aerobic exercise, you know you have gone too far. The better option: the humble, simple, binary bliss of a light switch. Maybe a dimmer, if desired. That and a sensible approach to turning stuff on when you need it, and off when you don’t.

Fibre tile ceilings – because who wouldn’t rather look at the gubbings they are they designed to hide, however unkempt, than the thing itself? Decades of ceiling design development have got us nowhere. The better option: nothing. Save us the cost, and the horror.

Sofas – not the informal panacea they are imagined to be – the most expensive, over-specified and under-used of office furniture items. They create too much intimacy for the environment, they are generally more difficult to sit in with a skirt on, and they don’t allow you to spread out your kit and “stuff”. But they’re always there, in the spaces between useful spaces, gathering cushions. The better option: a variety of tables, chairs (yes even comfortable ones), stand-ups.

“Designer” anything – finishes, furniture etc. Nothing quite says “total lack of imagination/let’s chuck some money at the problem” like a Barcelona chair in the lobby. “Designer” means there is already a significant mark-up attached to the reputation and marque that adds no value. The better option: design something and have it made locally, or find young, up-and-coming designers appreciative of the business, and help them grow.

Carpet tiles – protected from the scrapings of the street and any other route to the office by a doormat no bigger than you have at home is the safe harbour for a biological smorgasboard. Occasionally vacuumed properly, “cleaned” less than annually, you would be best advised not to bite it, even in the foulest rage. The better option: there are so many cheaper alternatives you can clean properly, that still look great years later.

Raised floors – probably responsible for most of the carpet tile sales the pinstriped world over, is the mask for the vermicelli of cables beneath the floor – you know, the ones that get yanked up into floorboxes that won’t close, or through grommets that are too small. The better option: decent wifi so you don’t have to flood-wire the Cat 6, and perimeter distributed power.

“Feature” anything – floors, lighting, ceilings, staircases, whatever. Because “feature” means taking out and discarding something that worked and replacing it with something much more expensive that adds no further functionality, and is usually much harder to maintain. Most people ignore it, and take it for granted anyway. The better option: work with what’s there, making small and low-cost modifications. Experiment, and make the ideas changeable – this will have far more long-term benefit.

The christmas socks – the collection of embarrassing attempts to make claims to cultural lightness, like fussball tables, climbing walls, slides, and meeting tables that double as table tennis tables. The modern equivalent of the poster that says “you don’t have to be mad to work here but it helps”. The better option: growing up a bit.

Creating a great workplace for all calls for deeper design thinking, not deeper pockets. Its time to explore it.