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The original was posted on /r/maliciouscompliance by /u/Angie_Reiden on 2024-11-07 23:58:26+00:00.
I work at a mid-sized company where most of us have small desks in an open-plan office. Our workspace was never fancy, but it was our own. Many of us had personalized our desks over time with small things that made us feel comfortable like family photos, little potted plants, motivational quotes, even those cheesy stress balls from random company events.
Enter our new manager, Sheila. Fresh from a more “formal” corporate environment, she came in with big ideas about “professionalism” and “efficiency.” Her first big change? An immediate “no personal items” policy. Sheila sent out an email announcing that desks must remain “professional and distraction-free” and warned that any personal items found after a certain date would be removed by her.
People were frustrated, but we complied. We packed up our things, took home our photos, plants, and every little touch that made our desks feel like ours. But Sheila wasn’t satisfied. She started walking around the office, critiquing anything she deemed “unprofessional,” including practical items like sticky notes or even labeled drawers. She wanted a uniform look, free from “clutter.”
At this point, we were fed up. We decided to take “impersonal” to a whole new level.
We spent the next few days systematically removing anything that added personality or function to the space. First, we took down the labels on drawers and cabinets that marked where supplies were kept, after all, they could be considered “personalized.” Then, we stripped the whiteboards bare, removing all schedules, task lists, and helpful reminders. My coworker Sam, the office organizer, removed all the color-coded tabs and replaced everything with blank, unlabeled folders.
Our workstations became soulless. But we didn’t stop there.
We noticed that even the company provided items, like the ergonomic mouse pads and wrist rests, weren’t uniform, so we tucked them away in drawers. Some of us even swapped out our ergonomic chairs with the plain guest chairs, as the ergonomic ones seemed a bit too “individualized.”
Soon, our workspace looked like a cross between a sterile hospital room and a call center with zero personality. It was, in Sheila’s words, “totally professional.”
Sheila was pleased at first, but then the consequences of our “impersonal” compliance started to show. Without labels or visible reminders, no one knew where anything was stored, leading to endless back-and-forth and wasted time hunting for supplies. Simple tasks took twice as long, with people digging through unlabeled files or searching for the right folder in the sea of plain, identical folders.
Clients visiting the office remarked that the space felt “cold” and “uninviting,” noting that they missed the usual welcoming touch. Morale in the office dropped, and everyone was noticeably disengaged.
After a particularly rough day where Sheila herself got frustrated searching for a stapler, she called an emergency meeting. She admitted that maybe we’d gone a bit too far, and that we could “reintroduce a few labeled drawers and some plants.” One by one, employees brought back their family photos, potted plants, and other small touches that made the office feel alive again.
By the end of the day, our workspace was back to normal, with a clear message sent: sometimes a little personality and comfort go a long way.