Last month I reorganized my office. I should have done it long ago. It's a big change, and I was looking for a big change. Actually, I needed a change inside my head, but of course I wasn't thinking that at the time.
The new office look has brought lots of curious peeks, surprised approvals, and flat out questions. 'Why'd you....' (everyone has a decorating opinion in a furniture retail company, but, thankfully, always diplomatically phrased). The most persistent question has been "What made you do it?"
It all started with the ficus in the corner that was uncomfortably close to the meeting table. I can become easily distracted in meetings when people are mildly discomforted by the physical environment: dodging the slatted sunlight coming from open blinds late in the late afternoon; brushing off the wayward leaves of an office plant that is only inches away. When the environment is my office, I'm more than distracted -- I'm responsible. One day, I finally acted. I moved the ficus across the room. Easy fix.
But then, the ficus was clearly in the wrong place. For a week I walked out of my way, around the ficus, to reach my desk. I also realized the room was unbalanced with the tree sticking out like a hitchhiker's thumb. So for a week I suffered it, and contemplated that even though I had hated my office layout since I'd moved in, now I'd made it even worse. And then the second shoe dropped: this is something I can change. So one Saturday I dug in and dug out. I even organized my pencil drawer, uncovering relics and antiquities, which soon made their way to recycle bins.
This was a few weeks ago, and I'm still surprised by how organized my thinking has been. I've been more effective in staying on top of projects. I've been more receptive to coworkers who drop in. I'm thinking more consciously about producing stuff to put in paper files. It's a wonderful feeling. Metaphors are wonderful for change. I needed to clear out, open up, and organize my physical environment so that I make the same changes in my thinking.
But why did it take me so long to figure this out? I realized as I was moving my desk and cabinets just how much I loathed the old arrangement. Before the move, I sighed internally every morning as I switched on the lights and approached my desk. How is it possible that I didn't recognize my own reactions, and do something about it?
Well that's simple - it seemed like so much work, and as evidenced by the piles of stuff around me, I was already buried in work. Making a change for me was just in the too-hard basket. It would take a day out of my life. I didn't have that to give. I would just have to make do.
Instead, I did one small thing that was easy. I moved the ficus. I thought I was creating a more comfortable space for my colleagues. Actually, I was creating more discomfort for myself. Necessary discomfort, it turns out -- necessary to commit to the more unwieldy task of actually fixing the real problem. I had to make it worse to release the inertia.
I'm now thinking of ways to move the ficus metaphorically in other areas of the business. We're surrounded by operational status quo, some of which clearly doesn't work for us or our customers, but which we tolerate, with a sigh. Is there a ficus to be moved?
The new office look has brought lots of curious peeks, surprised approvals, and flat out questions. 'Why'd you....' (everyone has a decorating opinion in a furniture retail company, but, thankfully, always diplomatically phrased). The most persistent question has been "What made you do it?"
It all started with the ficus in the corner that was uncomfortably close to the meeting table. I can become easily distracted in meetings when people are mildly discomforted by the physical environment: dodging the slatted sunlight coming from open blinds late in the late afternoon; brushing off the wayward leaves of an office plant that is only inches away. When the environment is my office, I'm more than distracted -- I'm responsible. One day, I finally acted. I moved the ficus across the room. Easy fix.
But then, the ficus was clearly in the wrong place. For a week I walked out of my way, around the ficus, to reach my desk. I also realized the room was unbalanced with the tree sticking out like a hitchhiker's thumb. So for a week I suffered it, and contemplated that even though I had hated my office layout since I'd moved in, now I'd made it even worse. And then the second shoe dropped: this is something I can change. So one Saturday I dug in and dug out. I even organized my pencil drawer, uncovering relics and antiquities, which soon made their way to recycle bins.
This was a few weeks ago, and I'm still surprised by how organized my thinking has been. I've been more effective in staying on top of projects. I've been more receptive to coworkers who drop in. I'm thinking more consciously about producing stuff to put in paper files. It's a wonderful feeling. Metaphors are wonderful for change. I needed to clear out, open up, and organize my physical environment so that I make the same changes in my thinking.
But why did it take me so long to figure this out? I realized as I was moving my desk and cabinets just how much I loathed the old arrangement. Before the move, I sighed internally every morning as I switched on the lights and approached my desk. How is it possible that I didn't recognize my own reactions, and do something about it?
Well that's simple - it seemed like so much work, and as evidenced by the piles of stuff around me, I was already buried in work. Making a change for me was just in the too-hard basket. It would take a day out of my life. I didn't have that to give. I would just have to make do.
Instead, I did one small thing that was easy. I moved the ficus. I thought I was creating a more comfortable space for my colleagues. Actually, I was creating more discomfort for myself. Necessary discomfort, it turns out -- necessary to commit to the more unwieldy task of actually fixing the real problem. I had to make it worse to release the inertia.
I'm now thinking of ways to move the ficus metaphorically in other areas of the business. We're surrounded by operational status quo, some of which clearly doesn't work for us or our customers, but which we tolerate, with a sigh. Is there a ficus to be moved?
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1 comment:
Well put. Well written. It took me a lifetime to realize that one's workplace is an extension of one's mind. I think that the idea holds for groups, too, meaning companies and corporations. The way the workplace is organized (or not) is a reflection of the overall mindset and an indication of expectations.
Cool post.
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