The Office: Your home away from home

Last week I did something I should have probably done five years ago: I bought a coffeemaker and set it up in my office. No more begging secretaries for their coffee, no more trips across campus to the decadent and overpriced coffee shop. From last week on, I am able to brew my own fancy coffee in my very own office using my very own Keurig coffeemaker.

As far as bringing personal items to work, I’m somewhat of a strange one. While fellow faculty members regularly cart in lamps and tables and chairs, the only times I have to borrow our departmental dolly, it’s to carry in books. And more books. Or maybe some journals. So when a staff member saw me hauling a crate into the elevator, he joked, “Do you have any room left for more books?”
“I don’t know, but this is a coffee maker.” I said.
“Ah, you’ve finally caved in.”

And he’s right. I have caved in. Into the desire to have caffeine at my fingertips whenever my body is pleading for it I need it. And into the trend that appears so visible on this campus, and all other American campuses of which I have been a part, namely to bring own one’s things into one’s office. I don’t know what it is about American academics, but they just love to turn their office into their home away from home. Granted, they also don’t receive the ergonomically correctly adjusted chairs, desks, footstools, and mouse pads that Dutch academics get on their first day on the job, but still. I can’t think of any Dutch professors who bring in their own furniture. The most one might see a Dutch scholar carry into his or her office is a plant, or an electric kettle (in case the departmental kitchen is only outfitted with a coffeemaker), or, if the scholar is the lucky recipient of a couple of kids, some art.

Now let’s look at the offices in my “regular” building, the one I’ve been living in for the past five odd years. When Steve still occupied the office next to mine, I remember being completely surprised when he ordered and paid for some framed art to hang on the wall. Why anyone would want to pay to decorate a space they don’t own was beyond me. But he did. And while I taped my infamous collection of quotes over my printer, Steve called facilities to hand his pictures for him. And he liked it. Then when Steve left, his replacement not only brought in her own art, she also carried it on her own lamps, television, and bookcase. The professor across the hallway has brought in a sideboard, a filing cabinet, and a fridge, while another professor down the hall has adorned her office with an eclectic collection of rugs and inspirational posters. Yes, I said rugs.

It’s even worse in the building where I work on my grant. When I moved into my office two months ago, it had a desk, a small side table, a desk chair, two chairs, and a filing cabinet. I was told to order new furniture, and I did. With university machinery moving at the speed of lightning, as it always does, I am still waiting on said furniture. And as of today, my office contains a desk, a small side table, a desk chair, two chairs, a filing cabinet, a printer, some office supplies, an extra extension cord, a tub of Lysol wipes, a small candle, and one picture cut out from a Dutch calendar. It’s bare. I love it. My neighbor has the exact same office, with the exact same standard furniture. He, however, decided to make his place more homey, and has thus added: two rugs, three lamps of varying sizes, but all three match the rugs, a sideboard, a cozy reading chair, several framed paintings, four or five plants, a humidifier, a fridge, a coffeemaker, an electric kettle, and a portable AC unit. Another colleague decided he did not like to colors of his walls (academic white), so he painted them one summer. One is green, the others are beige, and he’s decorated the green wall with a framed collection of pictures of his favorite authors.

Don’t get me wrong, whenever I see these offices, I wish mine looked like that. They’re cozy, they make you feel at home, and they do a great job reflecting the personality of the person working there. But then I realize that getting my office to look like that would entail, a) purchasing all these things using my hard-earned money, b) getting it all into my car, across a parking lot, and up three flights of stairs, and c) taking time out from fun activities such as grading to decorate my office. And then I realize I don’t have the money, the desire, or the time, to do any of that. Plus, I don’t want to start liking my office too much. I mean, it’s one thing to spend a lot of time there because you have work to do, but I don’t need to fall in love with the place, you know? Before you know it, I’ll never come home again. Especially when you consider that my new building is outfitted with showers too. It’s just too risky.

So I’m guessing that the coffeemaker will remain my one concession to this American trend. Unless someone has always had a burning desire to decorate offices. Then you’re more than welcome to try your luck on my two little cells.