Goldfish in the office? When it comes to workplace perks, the waters can be very murky
THE question of staff perks is on my mind after it was reported that a branch of the retailer TK Maxx in Arklow tried to pacify a workforce that was looking for better employment terms by installing some goldfish in the canteen.
The staff, it was reported, were unconvinced. This is not entirely surprising. As corporate gestures go, one would probably need to do just a little better these days to make an impact.
When it comes to staff perks, the technology sector has set the bar so high you’d need a fairly elaborate aquarium plus a snooker table at the very least. And that would be just the start of it.
Anyone who works in Big Tech these days – I am told – regards access to in-house kitchens offering gourmet meals as more or less standard.
Google’s headquarters in California – Google being the one to beat on such matters
– has a gym, a bowling alley, and basketball courts.
Facebook’s HQ has a barber shop, Twitter has on-site yoga and Pilates. Software company Adobe shuts down its offices for a week every summer to make absolutely sure everyone get a break.
There are companies that encourage you to bring your dog to work. There are some that let you bring your parents, should that appeal.
And tech company Hubspot is even offering female employees aged 32 and over the choice to freeze their eggs as part of their salary package.
It all tends to put goldfish into the ha’penny place.
I once worked in an office with an aquarium. It was a large American company run by a celebrity businessman who was regularly profiled in magazines such as ‘Fortune’ and ‘Forbes’.
He was a forwardthinking sort who made sure his employees were well looked after in their working day – fancy sandwiches and fruit were delivered daily, the coffee was good and plentiful, and the gleaming staff kitchen featured well-stocked drinks cabinets, as well as heaped bowls of Mars bars, Twixes and Haribo jellies.
I was – initially – impressed. I realised that there would be no good reason to ever leave the office during the working day. And as it turned out, nobody did. I worked for a year for that firm without ever taking a lunch break.
Such, of course, is the Faustian pact you strike when you join a company famed for its staff perks, and the deals have become ever more compelling. There are firms out there whose offices have nap rooms. When you throw in a gym, a basketball court and 24-hour access to healthy food, there’s a decent argument for staff to give up their home lives entirely. Why pay rent when the office is this much fun?
It all makes me slightly wistful for the era when offices were offices and home was home and it was really easy to tell the difference. There is a dark underbelly to the fancy office. Rumour had it that the fish who swam in the offices of the US firm I once worked for were piranhas, installed specifically to remind us of the character of our employer, and the attitude required to thrive. Initially I thought this was nonsense.
But then one morning I came to work early and came across a team of people pouring hundreds of tiny silver fish into the office aquariums.
Oh, I exclaimed. They’re so pretty!
The fish man laughed. They won’t be there long, he said.
I watched in horror as the new fish were devoured by the permanent residents of the tanks.
I learned a lesson. There is no such thing as a free gourmet lunch.
Smart casual sweat shops
MEANWHILE the sun continues to shine and as the weeks go by, my sartorial dilemmas are becoming more urgent.
I am in possession of perhaps two decent hot-weather outfits for work and that generally suffices for an Irish summer. But when every day is a scorcher, things start to get tricky.
I am not alone, I find, from my observations on the streets of Dublin.
There are women this week who have clearly thrown their hat at it, and are striding to their offices in teensy playsuits and flip flops; there are men going into shiny office blocks in GAA tops, black socks and runners.
At the other end of the spectrum are those who are sticking determinedly to their normal office wear, in complete defiance of Met Éireann’s weather predictions.
A man I passed yesterday was wearing a heavy wool coat. This is my tribe and as we pass each other in our dark suits and ties, our uncomfortable jeans and our unsuitable footwear, I sense a sweaty kinship.
Our cooler days will come.