A smaller slice of life
The shrinking work and living space is the new normal.
In large hierarchical organizations with long-serving staff, office space is an accepted status symbol. The assigned office location (proximity to the boss), size, view (picture window looking out at a golf course), location (corner), and amenities (en suite bathroom) indicate the occupant’s place in the pecking order.
However, with the rise of small companies with staff complements of less than 30 that perform outsourced jobs for bigger entities like those above, minimalism is in. Employers prefer cubicle farms with a layout of monastic simplicity. They do feature a pantry. (Please clean up after yourself.) Spartan digs impress the supply chain manager of the customer, comforted that overhead costs are under control. Rent takes the next biggest share of cost, just below salaries and above summer outings.
The shrinking work and living space is the new normal.
Some offices have even eliminated permanent space assignments, preferring the “hoteling” approach. The office worker occupies whatever cubicle is available for the day, no different from the hotel guest being billeted in a vacant room. Thus the worker may find himself in front of the photo wall one day and beside the boss the next day.
To ensure that spaces open up in the cubicle hotel, employees are required to work from home one day in the workweek. This means that at least 20% of the employees are not taking up space; even less than that when including field visits, sales calls, vacation leaves, and travel. Hoteling reduces rental overhead and optimizes space utilization, using the same principles as “just in time” inventory. Lockers are provided for personal effects, including family photos and coffee mugs which move with the employee when he checks in at his day’s work station.
Condos now also offer smaller spaces ( less than 20 square meters) as starter units, just a little bigger than broom closets, using as architectural models sleeping areas found in cruise ships for the crew. Spaces are given multiple functions allowing a dining area to also serve as bedroom, though not at the same time, unless the meal being consumed is not for nutritional purposes.
The tiny living space is not new. The Japanese have employed this minimalist approach for centuries, using the “tatami” not only as a mat for sleeping or sitting but also as a unit of measurement. Dealing with small spaces seem to be a specialty of this culture that has also introduced the bonsai, a way of dwarfing even a large tree to grow in a pot with its roots bulging out in their painful beauty.
The vendo hotel, where you open the hatch to the room by dropping money or swiping a card requires no receptionist. The vendo room is much like a coffin or an MRI chamber, not recommended
for those with claustrophobia. These “rooms” come with disposable towels and bed sheets, even a hanging small TV, and are stacked together in a honeycomb array near train stations. Bathrooms are available nearby. Space as a scarce resource is ruled by the law of supply and demand. The dynamics of closet spaces provide two options: reuce the need for space by throwing out excess items; or, keep expanding the storage area to accommodate growing inventory. Relationships have their own space allocations. Partners can feel suffocated by too much fection and jealousy ( I need space to breathe) and plead to be given more room to stretch. This distancing of bodies and common schedules may not always be temporary.
Still, the smaller slices for living force intimacy with its innate difficulty of avoiding each other in the corridor ( I’m not talking to you). The confined quarters can force one partner to call timeout — I’m going out for karaoke.
Relationships may be the best metaphors for space assignments in the office, at home or elsewhere. A space left vacant by separation may eventually be filled up again by another occupant. (I’m ready for a new relationship.) Clearly, the former inhabitant of the space, both physical and emotional, is not considered welcome by the new tenant, even for a visit. The incumbent now has the key to the old space.
The identity of a former tenant is eventually irrelevant... except for forgotten socks carelessly left behind in the drawer.