I’ll admit, I was reluctant to even entertain the idea of fitting out our office. It had been going strong for well over thirty years, and our employees had never complained. Sure, they were packed in like sardines, and sure I fired everyone who ever brought redesigning the office to me as a suggestion or concern, but I think I would have known if they were uncomfortable.
Eventually, my business partner Gary – let’s call him that at least – talked me around, explaining how it could be good for morale and keeping the troops motivated.
‘Now, listen, Steve,’ I’d told him, because that was Gary’s real name. ‘I don’t care if our space is so poorly optimised that the filing cupboard is bigger than the room with the desks in it! I just don’t see how we can justify hiring the best office interior design firm for businesses around Melbourne!’
Gary had started to back down, shaking his head like an old tortoise – classic Gary. But then my other partner – let’s call her my Evil Ex-Wife – came and had the same conversation with me!
‘They can’t reach their keyboards!’ my Evil Ex-Wife told me, hands on her evil hips. ‘We need to do something about this, and quickly!’
‘Please, Cynthia,’ I’d said, pinching the bridge of my nose. ‘Is this about the second house in Bermuda? Because you’re just not getting it.’
‘There’s a second house in Bermuda?’ she’d frowned at me, and I suddenly realised I’d been hiding it from her and her team of lawyers. But as she started to yell, a nice calm washed over me and I began to think… maybe we did need to look into a company completes new office designs in Melbourne!’
‘Sorry, Cynthia!’ I’d crowed triumphantly, cutting her off as she was saying something about “taking me for everything I’m worth” and “kidnapping my cat because it liked her more anyway”. ‘I have an office to save!’
And so I’d run back to my office, tripped over a telephone cord and hit my head on the desk.
Sorry, what was your question? Oh right. It’s a Thursday, and Ronaldo Raygun is the president.
Wait – who is?