Do you want to work in a place like this? Part 2
Part 2 of this article asks "Do you want to work in a place like this?" of two workplaces at opposite ends of the scale. In the first, employees are brought together by technology - email, mobile phones, an intranet, collaborative software, endless meetings and a pervasive self-importance rein in the chaos that always threatens to break out. "The Rocketship", for better or for worse, is the New Economy's usual vehicle. In contrast, workers in the "Biscuit Clubs" (and there are millions of them) are happy to put work near the bottom of their priorities and get on with the business of getting on through talking and sharing.
Workplace #3: The Rocketship
Who would work here?
The creative end of old media, new media, television production, movie post-production, architect, product design, advertising and public relations.
The setting
You can be certain that you're on a Rocketship if any of the following hold true: your surroundings include one orange wall and one purple wall (feng-shui'd to promote creativity and innovation); a phrase such as "Are you ready.", "Create Beauty" or "Challenge Convention" is stencilled (in an achingly trendy font) upon one of these lurid walls; there is a lawn in your office; a cardboard version of a little-known Star Wars character skulks in the background; someone has hired an in-house DJ; you need degrees in both fluid and structural engineering to understand and emulate the hairstyles you see around you; the sound of atmospheric drum'n'bass can be heard; Britney Spears is revered; Everyone speaks Mockney and is your 'mate'.
The regime
Three distinct stages can be discerned in the lifetime of a Rocketship. In the early days, all employees, whatever their age, ability or background, will be united by a common sense of purpose: they are all working towards taking whatever is in their collective imagination and bringing it into an undeserving world. At this point, money is so abundant that a lot of energy is put into the effort of spending it in ever more ludicrous and pointless ways. This is the Launch stage.
Next, the rocketship goes into Orbit. Flushed with success, the company's owners invariably seek to establish themselves by hiring dozens of extra people. This should mean that productivity increases as work is divided sensibly between more people. New skills are added to the existing mix and long-term success should be assured. However, all too often the Orbit stage sees the dilution of the original pioneering spirit that kept the company viable in the early days. The company expends enormous amounts of fuel as it spins through the void completely free from earthly concerns about money and sales.
All to soon though, a real test: the Re-entry Stage is about to begin. Projects become bogged down as essential personnel become disillusioned and leave, taking their skills and inside knowledge with them. Deals remain stubbornly unsigned. Sniping between departments breaks out as managers blame one another for the ever-worsening erosion of resources and prospects. Careful, decisive management can still save the company if a good product or service lies at the core of the business. The alternative: burning-up as the company tumbles back to earth.
What to look forward to
If you are lucky enough to join one of these companies in the Golden Era, when times are good, there are probably few more relaxed or enlightened places to work. Even if you arrive when the feast is going cold, there will be plenty of opportunities to forge links with a range of interesting, motivated people. The seeds of your next job may have been sown around you.
What to prepare yourself for
All human dysfunction is here: there will be managers who know not how to manage; Technicians who have no technique; designers who lack dignity, loyalty and discretion but suffer from a variety of fonts; c0d3rZ \/\/h0 5p33k th31r \/3ry 0wN L4Ngu4g3; salesmen with busy eyes, bad suits and breath that's too minty.
Being laid off without warning after months of not being paid.
There are only two outcomes of working in the wrong kind of Rocketship. First is the flat spin descent into drugs, booze, psychoses, ill-fitting yet ludicrously expensive clothes, poverty, disgrace and excommunication from all that you once held dear. The alternative, if you're lucky, is being able to make the most of a lucrative opportunity, one that may supply the resources to satisfy an irresistible urge to escape for a while before returning to the sort of job you thought you'd always manage to avoid.
Who will survive here?
There was a time when almost anyone with enthusiasm and basic knowledge of the New Economy would be welcomed in and rewarded generously. There was, until the late-1990s, widespread ignorance and distrust of newfangled digital technology. Almost anyone who understood a few buzzwords and how to use a PC had qualifications most business people lacked. That was then. Real skills in marketing, production, development and management are now necessary. A natural aptitude for wearing the right jeans and trainers is next on the list.
Workplace #4: Biscuit Clubs
Who would work here?
Conventional administrative office work in the public sector, especially in health trusts, local government, university administration departments. These people are the bedrock of our civilisation.
The setting
Biscuit clubs emerge in large, plain, open plan offices in large complexes on the outskirts of large and medium sized towns. They are often packed with faintly obsolescent computer equipment that hint at the lack of urgency in actually getting the job done - it's rarely life or death stuff, although some of these offices exist to create and then store the bureaucratic fall out of such events. Forms and invoice processing, data entry, sorting internal mail - that's what's going on here.
There is typically a very diverse mix of age, races and social groupings, but wives and mothers make up most of the workforce in this setting.
The regime
There is usually a supervisor somewhere in the mix, but senior management has been banished to those parts of the building reserved for endless committees, working groups and backstabbing events. No, you won't find anyone who's clearly in charge - there maybe someone in a suit but, as clear symbols of what is fundamentally wrong within the organisation, they are as likely to be given things to do by their charges, rather than vice versa. Biscuit club offices organise themselves along other lines, a formula which involves each individual's age, number of children and number of years in the office. Whether or not a person has to work there or just does so to get out of an empty house is another factor and how the others perceive someone.
When management does descend on these offices, it's usually to warn the inhabitants of change, the one thing that arouses fear in this, the bedrock of any large organisation. They are left to their own devices until it's time to install a new network, introduce new working practices, announce changes to the pay structure or lay some people off. After an initial period of angry remonstrations and obstreperousness, the office will quickly return to its usual placid state, like an ocean that has seen a typhoon pass over it.
What to look forward to
Record levels of unity of purpose, friendship, acceptance and downright cloying niceness have been measured in this category of offices. Everybody shares everything with everybody else - whether it's stories of 'hubby's' shortcomings, near-disastrous family holidays, recurring medical problems, troublesome nephews, wayward daughters, the difficulty of getting size 12 knitting needles, or, of course, calories in the form of digestive biscuits or leftover chocolates. The infectious good feeling and neighbourly co-operation will assimilate almost anyone, given time. These workers instinctively congregate outside the office to celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, conceptions, separations, new employees arriving, old ones departing, or to check out, en masse, the new hunk working in the canteen.
What to prepare yourself for
Despite the appearance of universal friendship, there may be deep, but expertly concealed rifts between individuals and groups of people. The slightest slight can be dwelled upon for years; petty disagreements can fester into permanent scars. Prepare yourself: you may become an ill-fated pawn in an eternal game of gossip and counter-gossip.
This isn't the place for unreserved criticism either. Be careful what you say about anyone - the bubble of mutual trust can be burst with a single barbed word. The penalty for such insensitive clumsiness will be a chilling form of internal exile. There'll be no biscuits, no offers of tea, no shared gossip or invitations - a living death when the work is so fundamentally tedious.
Who will survive here?
It's best to blend in. Being a woman between the ages of 18 and 65, with a family, or at least plans for one in the near future, seems to be the way to go. If you absolutely must be male, play their game and appear bumbling, slightly emasculated and comfortably dull. It really helps if you're the son of one of the other inmates.