Death Loves a Messy Desk

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Authors: Mary Jane Maffini
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migrated to its current position. Maybe when Missy was here?”
    “Easy to bring it back?”
    “Very easy. Not that Autumn Halliday would necessarily pay any attention to visitors as they arrived. She’s a lovely girl, but I think you can see she may not be cut out for corporate life. But she loves it here and I don’t think she was cut out for college, either. Although her father can’t accept that.”
    I said, “She’s still young.”
    Fredelle picked up on that. “Not even twenty. She’ll find the right field.” Fredelle was back in office-mom mode.
    I moved on. “Next, since Dyan is always snooping from the photocopier, let’s move that photocopier so that she doesn’t have to stroll across the office and preen in front of the boardroom and your office to use it. I imagine that distracts anyone in a meeting and annoys you.”
    “You have no idea.”
    “I bet I do. Does anyone else do any amount of photocopying?”
    “Hardly anyone. It’s mostly her. And I’m pretty sure she uses it a lot more than she needs to. Most things are computerized now.”
    “Perhaps you should start comparing bills and usage month over month with last year. See if your photocopying costs are up.”
    Fredelle’s face lit up with the possibility of giving Dyan a bit of well-deserved pushback.
    I added, “And in the meantime, you have an outlet nearby; if you put the photocopier right outside her office, she won’t get to use it as an excuse to swagger around. She may even use it less. That will save you money.” I did ask myself why Fredelle wasn’t on top of this fairly obvious situation. “I’d relocate any central printers there, too, in case she makes the switch to them.”
    Fredelle looked a bit worried. “Do you suppose she’ll get the message?”
    I couldn’t help grinning. “Oh, she’ll get it.”
    “Wonderful.” Fredelle brightened at the thought.
    “Be prepared for retaliation of some sort.”
    “I will. And what about Barb and the point of the whole exercise?”
    “First off, reconfigure the IT area so that Robbie and Barb aren’t visible on the path to the staff room or anywhere.”
    Fredelle blinked. “Will her desk still be messy?”
    “Most likely, but Dyan won’t have any business looking at it and therefore no legitimate reason to complain. It’s a stopgap solution, and it may even seem silly, but until I meet with Barb, it’s the best I can do.”
    Fredelle’s round kind face fell. “What about the mouse droppings? The old food? Those are health issues.”
    “I have a feeling they might have been added to the scene to give someone else ammunition.”
    “Oh! So maybe this reconfiguration is all we need.” Relief replaced worry on Fredelle’s expressive features.
    “Temporarily, for sure. It doesn’t simply target Barb. It tells people that you are doing something and their own tasks should be their focus. But you will have to decide how you’re going to deal with the desk if Barb doesn’t respond to my advice. You only have two choices: It’s okay or it’s not okay.” I thought about Jack’s desk and those of other creative people I knew. “Lots of creative people function better that way. Other people can really work much better when they develop new habits to create more order. There’s lots of debate about it. But as I keep saying, it’s not the desk that’s your big problem.”
    Fredelle nodded slowly. “I don’t know how I let things get so out of hand. It used to be so easy in the old days.”
    The door to the office burst open and crashed against the glass. I half-expected to find the entire window wall in shards on the floor. Robbie Van Zandt loomed in the door, his normally ashen face red and blotchy.
    “Now you’ve done it,” he shrieked.
    I dropped my notebook, and the design notes scattered on the floor. I’m not really used to men shrieking, I suppose. Although when you think about it, why should we women have all the best emotional outlets?
    Robbie

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