In my hi-tech, hi-spec office, on the plains of the industrial wastelands of county Dublin, we have an instant messaging system to communicate with our colleagues. We can thereby ping each other with questions and messages, without cluttering each other’s email inbox.
As I am paranoid, I tend to be quite discreet whenever using this system – on a computer everything you say is traceable. I don’t want to get caught issuing pronouncements like ‘The STATE of ****** today, looks like a bowl of reheated vomit.’ Actually I wouldn’t speak that out loud either. My external filter works on occasion, and I know that a thought like this is for internal mental use only.
I don’t engage in workplace gossip if and when it can get traced back to me. In other words very rarely indeed.
As a result people seem to trust me. And confide in me. Which is always a boon. Anything that assists with the drear of the working day is welcome. I’ll take refuge where I can find it.
This morning I received an instant message.
‘I have a question for you,’ it read.
‘Fire ahead,’ I replied.
‘I don’t really want to ask on here.’ Continue reading Office politics: The survival of the fittest