His Desk My Desk

After countless years of interminable stagnation in his characterless cubicle, Charming Calvin recently made two unexpected leaps from one company to the next. At the mind-boggling rate he's changing companies in the past year, I can hardly keep track of his latest head office. Wouldn't surprise me that Calvin would one day haltingly surface from the dark bowels of the underground only to find himself at the wrong office tower.

That of course hardly leaves him time to decorate his spartan office cubicle. Apart from the leafy plant which I practically forced him to purchase at gunpoint, all he has on the table are the usual office accoutrements provided by the company; basically a chair, a desk and the computer. Which I find undoubtedly tragic.

And mind-numbingly anonymous.

This time the cubicle walls are so low you could even throw spitballs at the unfortunate opposite.

Paul : Some wallpaper, some photos, some little knick knacks, ye olde plant... all those would do wonders.
Calvin : All great ideas but I think people will be shocked to see the plant even. 
Paul : Even the plant!? 
Calvin : Maybe a mug. 
Paul : Good God.

Engineers! The Dilberts of the World!

Gotta love them. Would hate to be in their office though. Drive me insane wanting to paint all the dull greige cubicles neon pink or something.

Not even a wall hanging? Seriously?

Fortunately... even though medicine has a well-earned reputation for being such a creaky, old-fashioned establishment, there has always been a serious soft spot for eccentrics.

In fact when I actually had an office, there were three leafy plants - one of which had practically grown monstrously into a thriving ecosystem of its own, possibly generating its own weather patterns. The sadly plain notice board had been wallpapered with pastel green chinoiserie patterns with forest green pins to match. Pictures of my travels along with Chinese opera postcards were littered all over. Medical textbooks - arranged according to colour - were clapped in between two busts of acupuncture heads. As a nod to the exotic frontier I had been posted to, an ornate Iban pua kumbu had been suspended on wooden beams behind my chair, along with the woven rattan bag I brought to work.

And that's not counting the couch with the pastel cushions.

And my own lamp that I painted with happy chic designs.

So gay, I know.

Maybe I should introduce Calvin to Jonathan Adler.