THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, October 30, 1996 TAG: 9610290009
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A13 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: OPINION
SOURCE: By Patrick Lackey
LENGTH: 78 lines
All the desks on the 11th floor of the Norfolk Public Schools central administration building are neat.
They have to be because Assistant Superintendent Thomas B. Lockamy Jr. says so.
The directors, coordinators, supervisors, specialists and secretaries on that floor recently received a 12-point memo from Lockamy on the subject: WORK AREA ORGANIZATION, CLEANLINESS, AND MANAGEMENT (his caps).
The memo's main points are numbered, naturally. What could be more orderly than the numbers 1, 2, 3 and so on? It's indisputable that Point 2 should follow Point 1 and 8 must follow 7.
Pardon my disorderliness, but numbered memos call to mind this children's joke: ``Why is 6 afraid of 7? Because 7, 8, 9.'' I'm further reminded of a certain German comedian's routine: ``Joke One. Take my wife, I COMMAND YOU! (his caps)'' The routine continues with Joke 2, then Joke 3, and so on. It's indisputable that Joke 3 should follow Joke 2. But, Shirley, I have digressed messily.
Point one of Lockamy's memo reads:
``DESKS (his caps; I'm only borrowing them) are to be organized and neat. Desk organizers should be `organized.' At the end of the workday, desks should be left neat and orderly in preparation for the next days (sic) work.''
My suspicion is that Lockamy is subconsciously pleading, ``BE LIKE ME!'' (My caps, though you may borrow them.) But I've never met Lockamy and probably am all wet.
What I know for sure is that he dislikes messy desks.
I prefer messy desks, especially mine.
Just the other day my boss sat across my desk from me and we weaved side to side in a kind of synchronized dance, attempting to make eye contact through tottering stacks of papers and reports. It was a warm moment, and we're closer for it.
What my messy desk says about me is this: ``He hasn't made up his mind yet.''
In other words, my subconscious remains at work on the problem of what to do with the papers on my desk. My subconscious is fueled by dread of having to do anything with all that paper, every sheet of which represents a decision that has to be made sooner or later, obviously later.
A person possessing a lesser mind than mine would glance at each sheet of paper and file it somewhere - out of sight, out of mind. Where's the thought in that? Where's the profundity?
A visitor to my office might inquire, ``How could your subconscious be contemplating papers at the bottom of a pile that surely took six months to accumulate?'' Well, the subconscious is a powerful tool. Our brains are like icebergs, and figuratively speaking, it was an iceberg's subconscious that sank the Titanic.
I learned about Lockamy's memo on neatness from a story earlier this month by staff writer Jon Glass, whose desk is a disaster area. Lockamy told Glass, ``When I walked in some of the offices, you couldn't even see where the administrators were sitting. I think a work space needs to organized and neat so you can function. It's like coming to work in jeans instead of a suit.''
Wait one minute, MISTER (my caps). Jeans are good. No one should wear a suit everyday. It's not natural.
Someone important once said, ``Never trust any idea arrived at in a suit.'' Or come to think of it, the person might have said, ``Never trust any idea arrived at sitting down.'' Or maybe someone said, ``Never trust any idea arrived at standing on your head in your underwear.'' The quote is on my desk somewhere. The point is, if everyday you dress the same and your desk is the same, you'll think the same.
Thinking the same, I hasten to add, is the same as not thinking. Chaos is key to everything, as science has recently been forced to admit. Without chaos we have repetition. We have neat desks.
The difference between Lockamy and me - LOCKAMY LOCKAMY LACKEY and LACKEY would be a neat name for a law firm - is that I understand that different people do their best work under different conditions. Lockamy couldn't work at my desk; I couldn't work at his.
In general, messy-desk people are more tolerant than neat-desk people.
YOU (your caps) never see us messy-desk people firing off memos ordering neat-desk people to loosen up. MEMO: Mr. Lackey is an editorial writer for The Virginian-Pilot. by CNB