can never be too much thanking in the workplace.
It isn’t only senior staff who should thank.
Presents and cards
In Green Wing, Channel 4’s crazy ‘hospital’ comedy, a gloomy figure trudged round the administrator’s office. ‘Do you want to sign Karen’s leaving card?’ Everybody complied and, as the bearer of the card was sloping away, a voice was heard to enquire, ‘Who’s Karen?’
Outside the workplace, correspondence is neglected (that terrible backlog of thank-yous etc., on the necessity of which see Thank-you letters and cards for meals and parties – a major rethink, page 214), but in the office little enthusiastic messages are written on cards for unknown people every day. There is an obsessive mania for cards and presents for every conceivable anniversary and would-be special occasion. Vast amounts of time are devoted to buying them, getting the cards signed (a huge administrative undertaking), raising money for presents (another massive job), as well as buying and wrapping them. One woman I spoke to was amazed to receive a card signed by the entire office because she was going to the christening of her second cousin’s child, the second cousin being someone she hardly knew.
‘People come round with these cards at least once a week. Someone’s mum hasn’t been too well, someone’s getting married, having a baby, moving house, getting engaged,’ says Matt. ‘I always sign them, even if I don’t really know who they are. But I wonder how people have got the time for all this.’ Zoe, careful with her meagre salary, resents the expense. ‘Somebody comes up to you and says, “We’re all putting a tenner in for Aimee’s present. Is that OK?” You can’t say no, can you?’ Others, less popular (said to have smelly feet, not to share their chocolates), are lucky to get a tenner spent on their entire present.
Another phenomenon is excessive sending of thank-you cards (although there might be a general lack of thanks in the same workplace – see Thanking, page 38). ‘Our MD’s PA was too busy to get the flowers for the reception desk once,’ says Zoe, ‘and I volunteered since I was going past the shop in my lunch hour. I got a card for that.’
It makes sense to sign a card for someone you don’t know when that person is leaving – maybe, unknown to you, they cleaned a sticky patch off the photocopier which would otherwise have ruined your immaculate document. You are thanking them for their contribution, whatever it might have been.
Otherwise, departments or smaller teams might give cards on significant occasions (not just when they feel like it). If this custom is established, everybody must be included (no nasty favouritism) and trouble must be taken to find out when and to whom they might be sent.
Although ‘rules’ about the giving of presents might seem clinical and mean-spirited, the alternative is that popular people are showered with all kinds of largesse while others get very little, and younger employees resent having to fork out while expectations from receivers of gifts rocket through the ceiling. One person told me she was outraged only to get an M & S breadboard after working in a place for six months.
A leaving present should be a token of appreciation, not a measure of worth.
If ‘thank-you cards’ are over-used, they lose their meaning. In the workplace, they should be reserved for some quite exceptional favour or kindness.
A card signed by everyone is not right for a bereavement. Don’t ask why; it just isn’t.
Smelly food – the CupaSoup nightmare
Eating in the workplace and eating on the street (see Munch as you go and What’s that smell?, page 15) can upset in the same way, only the former is worse because certain sights and smells are harder to escape indoors. In an office, people being known to each other, it could be that loathing of what someone is eating is really loathing of them. But actually some food is unbearable just by itself, Batchelors CupaSoup being the shining example. Zoe says, ‘Rice cakes! Ugh! Why do adults have to eat baby food?’ At least she can stay in the room with them but when a male colleague tucks into his daily takeaway, she has to hide in the toilets. ‘One MD’s office I knew smelt so bad nobody could stand to go in,’ says Matt. ‘The business nearly collapsed because nobody was telling the guy anything. It turned out he liked cheese and he used to keep some weird stinky French stuff in there.’
Many workplaces have rules about eating at your desk. Where there are none, avoid smelly food. Watch out for your colleagues crinkling their noses.
Food that might be all right elsewhere won’t really do in the workplace – fish and chips, burgers, Indian or Chinese takeaway. It’s the smell. It just doesn’t go with the nice clean office smells of computers, paper and rubber plants. Also, it’s all very well when a whole group is chomping through a takeaway, but one person gnashing away on their own isn’t an attractive sight.
Office parties
With the rising tide of money in recent years there have been more and more office parties. Employers think they are providing a treat. Employees do nothing but grumble. ‘Have we got to go?’ ‘I’m not sitting next to her.’ ‘Only sparkling white this year! Cutting back, are we?’ One year Matt was required to organise the Christmas party. He nearly died. It had to be an elaborate event with a theme and a band and entertainment and a seating plan. Nothing else would do. Afterwards, everybody was invited to fill out a questionnaire criticising it to their heart’s content.
‘But research shows,’ says Matt, ‘that if we just gave them vouchers, they wouldn’t feel valued.’
You can’t win.
The anarchy and drunkenness of office parties are legendary. But the inexperienced should be wary. It’s not what it seems.
The classic horror scenario is the younger employees behaving just as they would at their own party, only worse. Telling the boss what they really think of him or her is just the beginning. They will insist on strip poker; if met with general recalcitrance they will take all their clothes off just to make a point and sit on the lap of the most spinsterly of the PAs. This is a prelude to being violently sick and collapsing on the floor.
Senior staff may not behave much better. I heard of one boss who, in his speech, took the opportunity to tell his workforce that they were a useless lot who would be lucky to find their jobs waiting for them when they returned after New Year. Another, who had cleverly seen to it that only very gorgeous young men were employed in the media-planning department, took the opportunity of the Christmas party to snog them all.
If not out of control, you might, like Matt, have trouble thinking of something to say. ‘One year I spent the time discussing how we could reduce paper costs with a colleague.’ This is very bad – talking shop. But suddenly having to wean yourself off this kind of thing and talk to people you think you know well in a different way is disconcerting.
Anarchy at office parties is far more controlled than it appears.
You can get drunk but you should not be incapable.
Don’t be sick.
Don’t make an exhibition of yourself.
Don’t talk shop.
In
