Disclaimers
I spent some time this afternoon rewriting the disclaimer information at the bottom of page three of the magazine I edit. It's that bit of the magazine that nobody really reads, but I decided to give it my all. Then had a slurp of coffee. Giggled to myself. And finally finished. It's not a masterpiece.
Several thoughts on disclaimers. Firstly, writing words to the effect that the views expressed in the magazine do not necessarily represent the views of the organisation does not change the reality that, for most of our readership, the views in the magazine are exactly the views of the organisation. Some people will inevitably take every word on page 12 seriously, even quotation from the mouth of an entirely independent commentator, and entirely ignore my little disclaimer. Much as I might like to absolve myself of some corporate responsibility in my editorial decisions, my readers won't give me the same latitude.
Secondly, it's hard to be funny. On the basis that few people would be committed enough to read them, I rewrote them with a humorous tone to reward them for their effort. Now I'm away from my computer and on the train home, I'm not sure I pulled it off. In any case, the world is overflowing with smug sounding marketers who want to make their widgets sound like Innocent smoothies, and I'm not sure I want to be one of them.
Finally, it's very easy to give too much attention to things that don't matter. The disclaimers, exactly as they were, were absolutely fine. I'll probably change them back tomorrow. So there's a little portion of my life I can never get back, wasted on something of no consequence. If nobody's going to notice, it can just be OK. And I could have left the office 20 minutes earlier.
DISCLAIMER: Please note that the views in this blog post do not necessarily reflect the views of Andy Jaeger.
“Working” from home
I "worked" from home today. I say "worked" not worked because in reality my output has been somewhat limited. I think this comes with the territory though. I've never honestly known anyone come in from a day working at home with a completed version of War and Peace on their memory stick.
It does however present a bit of a problem. The organisation I work for is adopting New Ways of Working. In summary, I won't have a desk any more and I'll be expected to work, not "work", from home more often. The desk bit is fine with me. I only occupy it for 50% of my working hours anyway so sharing it with one or more people is entirely sensible. But I'm rubbish at working, rather than "working", at home. Being a social person, and doing an essentially social job, means that I've normally gone slightly loopy by the end of my day if I'm by myself. It's not good. I do not play well without others.
I'm off out for a beer, or perhaps several beers, with a friend now. I'll hug him very enthusiastically and I'm sure he'll think it's a reflection on him. In truth, I'm starved of human contact. I must never become a hermit.
A bit of space
After a very hectic and fun week away from the office, being back at work is a shock to the system.
My email inbox was heaving this morning. I've decided, the next time I go away, to update my out of office message to say I won't be reading any of my emails when I get back to work. I might even autodelete them all. I'm kidding myself and other people otherwise. After a week, issues will either get worse or fix themselves. If they've got worse, someone will shout at me as I walk through the door. If they've fixed themselves, I don't need to know. I wonder, if I did that and made myself available to chat on the phone to anyone and everyone on my first morning back, whether my day would be more productive. I certainly wouldn't be ploughing through endless discussions about all sorts of nonsense. I could find out what I needed to know and just get on with things.
As it was, I wouldn't have been able to do that anyway. I had a new person starting in my team this morning and I've been out all afternoon going to 60 minutes worth of presentation and meeting in Birmingham. I must not let this happen again. A clear diary on my first day back from holiday is essential. It'll get filled anyway but space is invaluable.
Anyway, at the end of that busy day I find myself not at home but on a train back from Birmingham. I really just want to be in my garden. My hands are sore today from an afternoon of intensive digging, but bindweed must be dealt with, especially as I like the neighbours and don't want to annoy them. I also want to make it a garden to sit in, rather than a patch of weeds to stare at. Right now it's halfway there. It's a patch of largely weedless mud to stare at. Gravel, raised beds, the odd chair and it's done. Like an empty diary after a week's holiday, a bit of space after a busy day. Just about perfect.