Corporate Anthropology II

It's such a rare position to be in: observing a team at work, in a real business situation, under potentially extreme pressure, without having to do anything. Yes, I'm aware that I have to write about it at the end. But I'm not here in the role of facilitator or consultant or adviser or psychologist. I don't have to look for anything in particular, report back or make recommendations. I don't have to do anything that is intended to change or impact upon the group. Not rare for anthropologists, of course. But rare in business. Most corporate anthropologists are paid to research customer behaviour and help, directly or indirectly, with marketing or innovation.

Because I'm not paid by the team or the team's employers, I'm also not beholden to anyone for anything. Except that, if I behave bedly, they won't ask me back.

So, the anticipated question arises. Should I go to lunch with the team members? And, if so, should I go as observer or active participant? I notice that this mirrors the different roles of the psychotherapist. I could go as a blank sheet and work 'psychodynamically' through the transference, or I could go in the 'humanistic tradition' and engage thoroughly in the relationship. After a moment's thought, I go. And go as a fellow human. Anythging else would be absurd. But I notice that I raise the question and ask them how they would feel if I blogged about Project Red Stripe and how they would feel if I wrote weekly about them in, say, The Guardian...

Some of the first things I'm noticing are about work in the 21st Century office. Partly it's because I have been so long away from that environment (though I work in an office now, it's hardly the rat race upstairs at Axminster station). My main insight after week 1 (having reviewed their Myers-Briggs profiles and their project schedule) was that the team was in need of a mother. Probably all such work teams are likewise in need of a mother. I made them tea in a teapot and served it to them in cups with saucers (I'd already given up all hope of being an unnoticed observer). I don't know what they thought - though it struck me that it was a funny luxury for me to have the time to do this - I would never allow myself the luxury in my own office, where I still have trouble locating the hoover.

Anyway, I think those five men and one woman need a mother. They need someone to look after them, make the place comfortable, bring them lunch, remind them to send birthday cards, give them hugs, tell them to go home. It's not just at work. How do kids in schools manage without matrons? Of course, work was always like this - the emotionally-arid public school as a necessary preparation for governing in far-flung parts of the Empire. I just notice it more having been away for so long. No wonder there's bullying and victimisation and burn-out and the infernal cauldron of shadowy, unacknowledged stuff.