So, I went into the office...

It’s been six months since I received the fateful message that we would be working from home for a while. And, until Friday, I hadn’t been back - there was little reason to do so, as I’ve been as productive at home as I would be in an open-plan office and the restrictions on travel made it unnecessarily complex to try to get there.

But we’re due to move offices soon, and in order to ease the move, we’ve been asked to empty our personal lockers until the move is complete. And so, in order to get it over with, Ros and I set  off towards Ipswich on Friday morning.

I’d completed a risk assessment, confirmed that I didn’t feel as though I’d be forced to go back in, and had brought something to carry my possessions.

Our regular security guard was on duty, which was strangely reassuring, and asked how I was and how long I’d be in, before explaining some of the basic COVID-19 compliance rules for the building. And, with that, I set off to the lift lobby. Only one person is allowed in a lift at a time, as social distancing isn’t possible due to their size, but I didn’t have to wait.

It’s amazing the things that you forget when you’ve been away for a while - doorcodes being the most obvious one. Given that my memory is fuzzy if I’ve been away for a fortnight, six months was a bit challenging, but I was able to get onto my floor, which was empty of life.

I emptied my locker of a lifetime supply of pens, tea, coffee, stationery and all of the other stuff you accumulate over time - the model of a Melbourne tram is now sitting on my home office windowsill - before setting to work on organising the work records that I’ve got, putting it all in folders for ease of storage.

Surprisingly quickly, everything was done, and it was time to get out. It was, I have to admit, a slightly odd experience - you do become a bit institutionalised if you’ve been in the same building long enough - but I can’t say that I miss it particularly. There’s no doubt that there are a few things that are easier done in the office, but not that many, and open-plan offices do not necessarily aid concentration or, for that matter, encourage original thinking.

And so, we await news on what one might call “the future of work”. The pandemic has massively accelerated thinking in terms of where we need to be and when in order to deliver our responsibilities and management are probably running to keep up. How do you manage staff if you’re not able to physically oversee them? How do you ensure that your staff stay up to date? These, and many other questions require thought and sensitivity, and time is short.

Much to think about, I suspect...

It seems that the Conservatives do believe in virtue signalling, after all...

And so, it seems, I am to be driven back to the office, whether I want to do so or not. Apparently, the Government believe that, if the Civil Service goes back to a routine of commuting and meetings, the private sector will feel morally obliged to follow.

Admittedly, taking a moral lead doesn’t work too well for the Civil Service as a rule. Austerity saw us receive a series of nil or negative real terms pay “increases” which saw our pay fall by about 15% in real terms over a decade, whilst median pay rises across the workforce at least kept pace with inflation for the most part. And it’s been many a year since any government made changes to Civil Service pay and benefits that led the way in terms of enhancements.

But, in truth, we’re an easy target. Nobody much cares whether or not the Civil Service can recruit or retain staff, there’s a general assumption that we do nothing but drink tea and shuffle paper all day, that we receive gold-plated pensions and act as a restraint on progress and innovation. Of course, the fact that we exist because Government, and you the people, require someone to apply the laws and rules that you both insist upon introducing, appears to be a never-ending surprise to you all. Twas ever thus.

Sending us back to our city centre offices won’t make a lot of difference to the economy - many of my colleagues prefer to bring their own lunch, or can’t afford the price of a Pret sandwich, anyway, and given the organisational difficulties of escaping a ten storey building which has only three lifts in order to take a lunch break, I wouldn’t expect town centres to see a huge difference in footfall when we do return.

And, of course, we’ll be adding to the pressure on the restricted public transport services that now operate. HMRC, for example, having closed its network of local offices over the past three decades, now operates out of a small number of large office blocks which have, quite deliberately, little or no parking space - part of a policy of reducing traffic congestion in our major cities.

In addition, as part of a strategy to reduce costs, there now isn’t a dedicated desk for each staff member - we hotdesk instead, with desk provision based on a ratio of six or seven desks for every ten “full time equivalent” staff (i.e. part-timers are counted as the relevant fraction of a full-time staff member), and tablets instead of fixed computer stations. And that’s one of the reasons why we adapted so well, and so quickly, to working from home. Many of the people I speak to have no idea where I am, and care even less.

But, if it is insisted that I return, I will. And yes, there will be issues about social distancing and face mask wearing, there will be issues about how and when you can leave the building given restricted lift capacity, but if that’s what they want, that’s what the Government will get. Morale will probably fall amongst those who have adapted well to home working, but that’s a problem for management, I’d suggest. Will we be more efficient? In some ways, yes, in others, no.

Ironically, it will make not a whit of difference to the private sector. After all, their success depends on doing whatever increases efficiency and profitability the most, not on displaying some vaguely defined sense of morality without advantage. And the Government, especially this one, is hardly going to make them.