New normal: Difference between revisions

In these neurotic, bossy times we hear a lot about what is, or isn’t, the “new normal” and how employers — especially big institutional ones — might be “pivoting” back from the unexpected marvel of compulsory remote working — which let’s not forget, they were bounced into, to get out of a [[COVID]] jam — to their more usual stentorian disposition, in which they insist their staff must present at the office where they can be properly over-watched, audited, monitored, measured and assessed for periodic thinning.

But surely, [[the new normal]] is ''precisely'' the thing for which our friends in [[human resources]] have been carelessly wishing for thirty years. It is only the logical conclusion of the generational push, in the name of cost reduction, to deprecate the experience of office life for the employee.

There is a deal here, that is to say. The employment contract is a two sided affair. It is more than just work product delivered in one direction and money delivered in the other. Systematically, The Man has been pulling punches on his side of the bargain.  

===The ship has sailed===

Simply put, the “new normal” was well and truly here long before the bats went crazy in Wuhan. It is a done deal. Office working in 2020 is ''nothing'' like it was in 1990. If you want to talk sagely about the “going back to the ''old'' normal”, well sorry, chump: that ship has ''long since'' sailed. There will be no return.  

Over thirty years, employers have systematically dismantled most of the peripheral benefits of office life, treating them as regrettable externalities that should not, except by accident, accrue to the worker. Things a junior clerk might have expected in 1990 — an office, status, privacy, a [[travel and entertainment]] budget, an assistant, an internal mail service, a typing pool, proofreaders — ''all'' of these fripperies have gone. Even the [[IT department|hardware]] brought in to replace them has been taken away again: now staff must [[bring your own device|bring their own]].  

These emoluments were withdrawn piecemeal in a generational, insidious, erosion of paltry joys. Like frogs in a warming pot, respected professionals morphed, over 30 years, into battery hens.  

Take, for example, office space. The young clerk had first to ''share'' her office, then give it up it for a cubicle, then an un-barricaded desk in a row. Nowadays she has a soft commitment that, as long as at least the projected number of coworkers are sick or on holiday, there ''should'' be a spare terminal she can log into, but she must wipe clean and sanitise it in compliance with the [[clear desk policy]], before leaving for the day. And these workers are the lucky ones: they haven’t — ''yet'' — been jettisoned in favour of the [[proverbial school-leaver from Bucharest]].  And we won't even talk about the money.

Employees have, in the meantime, steadfastly kept up ''their'' own end of the bargain, unalloyed. Expanded, even: they are expected to be available at any time, in any place, on their own device and at their own expense.  

But suddenly, the battery hens have had a taste of ''la dolce vita'' — albeit spread across their own dining-room table — and many of them won’t want to give that up. Out of the blue an apple has, for once, fallen on ''our'' side of the fence.  

In many ways, “bring your own premises” is really just the logical next step. This is probably where the COO wanted to take things anyway. In any case, COVID has let the genie out of the bottle: just as we found [[BYOD]] an unexpected blessing<ref>''Some'' sort of subsidy for the cost we bore on the firm’s behalf might have been nice, of course.</ref> BYOOP offers us so much more: we trade a sterilised rectangle of desk-space for our own office, as grandiose or grubby as we like. We can have photos of departed pets, printouts of those faxed Larson cartoons and whale music in the background if we want, and the [[chief operating officer]] need not care a row of buttons.