You’ll also find this post at The Pulse

Say hello to my little friends.

We’ve spoken about children at work, and the effects of family illness.

How about critters?

What role (if any) do pets have in business?

Free Range

I figure there are three schools of thought:

1. Corporate environments in which the prospect of pets is laughable.
2. Home / small offices that consider critters de rigueur.
3. Places in between.

As usual, I expect to learn that I’ve merely … scratched the surface.

I’ll describe my situation, tell a few tales, then open the floor.

Winston and Sarah have mentioned pets in several comments.

I’d love to hear yours too.

Dog Days

Omaha and Graham (pictured) spend each day in or around Empire House.

Omaha curls at my feet for hours.

She’s wonderful company for a sole trader in a solitary trade.

Twitter is awash with pictures of cats lounging on keyboards and monitors.

These suggest many businesspeople keep close quarters with furry friends.

Walkies!

My dogs get me out of the house.

I’m forever tempted to put work deadlines ahead of my well-being.

Left to my own devices, I wouldn’t exercise nearly as much.

But when bright eyes and tapping paws implore you to take them to the sun, it’s hard to resist.

Stress Balls

I’ve read that pet owners live longer and have reduced cancer and heart disease risk.

The mere act of stroking fur is supposed to lower your heart rate and stress level.

If you have a bad interaction with a client or supplier, the warmth and unconditional understanding of a best friend can be very calming.

Pet Hates

It cuts both ways, though.

When clients visit, critters must vanish.

You can’t have them jumping and pawing.

And that visitor’s chair better be clean.

It’s bad enough when you go to a meeting covered in fur. (The old sticky roller’s a godsend here.)

Sending your clients back into the world similarly hirsute is even worse.

Corporate Animals

Some larger offices allow pets (and military mascots abound).

Responses range from lifting team morale to finding poo in the boardroom.

Some people can’t handle the distraction of animals at work.

And a cute puppy sure can stop an entire department in its tracks.

Babies have a similar impact, though they don’t tend to chew three-phase power cables.

Then, of course, there are allergies.

Despite the pitfalls, some big firms have a liberal attitude towards pets at work.

How about you?

Your Say

What do you think of this fuzzy frivolity?

• One meow, yes.
• Two meows, no.

Give us a sign,

lest we do this by

arf.

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

Do you share dark days with clients?

Disease is visiting my family.

I’ll spare you the details; it’s life and we all must live it.

The question is, do our private lives concern our customers?

Family Feud

Fonnie and I differ on so little, it’s significant when we retain opposing views.

Hers is that family affairs have nothing to do with business.

Mine is that clients appreciate candour and humanity.

Fonnie is wise.

My business is successful.

So who’s right?

Our chronic debate has covered many scenarios. See what you think.

Gone to the Dogs?

If I missed a client phone call due to walking my dogs, I used to apologise and say as much.

Fonnie argued that my unsolicited admission would win few votes, especially from those toiling daily in windowless rooms.

I recognised the difference between truth and blurting and am now less forthcoming.

House Call

Last week I had to cancel a client meeting due to a pivotal family medical appointment.

Against Fonnie’s advice, I told two client representatives in broad terms what was going on.

One was sympathetic; the other annoyed.

A tie.

Truth or Dare

I’m fully booked for the next fortnight. Yet it’s highly likely my family will need me during this time.

If they do, I’ll put them first.

But what, if anything, should I tell clients whose deadlines I miss?

Have you ever phoned a supplier to be told, ‘He’s in a meeting’ and you know he isn’t?

I’ve even heard (disgruntled) secretaries say, ‘He’s gone to the pub’ or ‘He’s on the toilet’.

I see here that discretion is preferred.

But if someone I seek is tending a loved one, I’d much rather be told than deceived.

In my book, to understand is to forgive.

Body Blow

On the other hand, some people fling family matters in your face like a smoke screen.

When I advised our architect that her $3000 laundry plans (developed over weeks) made no provision for our washing machine, she promptly cited a miscarriage and stopped taking my calls.

Then there’s grey areas. For instance, does a snake bite wield less gravitas on a teen than a toddler if they’re both your kids?

Help!

I won’t lie to clients.

But I don’t wish to bore them with matters they consider irrelevant.

I feel my approach should be situational, but I’m crap at reading situations.

I therefore rely on your views to illuminate this picture.

What do you think of life, death, customers, family, the universe and all that?

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

                                                       Now hear this!  

Speaking of music, do you use it at work?

Or would that fry your brain?

Below are a few case studies.

Let’s see if one calls your tune.

Trade Mark

Almost every tradie I’ve seen has a battered boom box blasting brash commercial radio.

The station is always slightly de-tuned so the voicesss orrr gorrrbled and the esssesss are sssssssssibilant.

I can’t see what comfort these radios provide. The Victoria Park renovators have a particularly large one and the effect is cacaphonic.

One bloke, high in the steel of the Tom Sherrin Stand, dutifully whistles every tune. Perhaps the station is his companion.

The instant someone puts a commercial station near me, it’s like a radar jammer – scrambling my thoughts and rendering me unable to work.

Am I alone in this, or do you feel it too?

Studio 1

Music is obviously very important to some.

Web designer Anthony Olsen has written 13 blog posts about music at work.

Many of his selections are quite beautiful.

But while I could possibly handle some of the more ethereal ones in the background, I still prefer to work in silence.

Not My Department

Perhaps this aversion comes from my 14-hour Christmas shifts at Myer department store.

One year, our gifted Visual Merchandising Manager swapped the Muzak tape for The Jackson Five Christmas Album.

After six weeks of Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town, I would gladly have accepted CIA rendition to escape my sonic prison.

Bop Till You Shop

On the other hand, I totally get the use of music in fashion shops.

Following Fonnie to boutiques on a Saturday, it’s obvious the phat club tunes are appropriate and enjoyable for staff and customers alike.

But when I do the Sunday morning grocery run to my local shopping centre, the Baker’s Delight speakers blare across the empty car park and deep into the suburb.

I find this wall of sound impenetrable.

Friday on My Mind

The one time music does rule Empire House is Friday arvo.

Bereft of flesh-and-blood peers, I crack a bevvie and belt out a set for my imaginary staff, occasionally tweeting highlights, be they this, this, this, this, this, this, this, this or this.

Your Song

But enough of me; let’s talk about you.

Do you like music at work?

Why?

Why not?

What does music do for (or to) you when you’re trying to earn a crust?

Go on …

Hum us a few lines.

We’re playing your song.

…

This is DJ Half-Yearly Clearance.

With blasts from the past,

fantastic plastic

and platters

that

matter.

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

                                     Do you have hearth-and-home holidays?

As Easter and Anzac Day coincide, Fonnie’s taking three annual leave days for ten days off in a row.

We both sorely need this break, but we’re not going anywhere.

We’re spending our holiday at home.

How about you?

Freedom

We’re so knackered from early starts, long days, big projects and weekend work, we need every one of these days to rest.

We don’t want to waste two days travelling.

Nor do we seek punch-ups with travel agents, airport officials, resort owners or other uncaring service providers.

The money we could spend on air fares and accommodation will go to debt reduction and rare treats.

We’re going to enjoy our home, our pets, our city and our state.

• A picnic in the park.
• A special dinner.
• A visit to the hairdresser.
• The museum.
• A play.
• Long lunches.
• Sleep-ins.
• DVDs by the fire.

We can’t wait!

It’s said that the less you need, the richer you are.

So I guess you could call this a get-rich-quick scheme.

By scaling down our ambitions and enjoying what we have, we hope this will be one of our best holidays ever.

But there’s a threat.

Working Holiday

From our couch, we can clearly see all that needs to be done to the house and garden.

Painting. Weeding. Scrubbing. Maintenance. Repairs. And more.

Then there’s two PC portals to our respective work worlds.

The temptation to check in may be too great.

And if the phone rings with urgent business, how can we say no?

It’s going to be an interesting exercise.

As post-GFC domestic saving reaches new heights, I wonder if others are doing likewise.

Your Time

What are you doing this Easter?

Are you:

• Off or on?
• Here or there?
• In or out?

Tell us your plans, and what costs and benefits they’ll have to you and your work.

It’s time!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

                                                    What’s your best time?

Thanks to MyCarBudget, last week’s discipline debate got me thinking about a kindred topic:

When do you do your best work?

Night Owl

Winston Churchill was notorious for grinding his staff to a paste.

They rocked up for work at the usual time.

He started late, napped in the arvo and went most of the night.

If you weren’t there for dictation at 3 am, sparks flew.

He won the war, but his health and relationships suffered.

Morning Person

I love mornings; the earlier the better.

My mind is clear as dew and I revel in pre-peak-hour calm.

Once I’m in The Zone, I can work 6 am to noon without drawing breath.

If a phone call shatters my reverie, however, it can take 15 minutes to regain concentration. (No wonder I prefer email!)

After lunch, I’m good for another hour or two.

But then I fall in a heap.

On some days, 2.30 pm sees me almost brain dead; I literally can’t string a sentence.

Coffee, water, bananas and diet cola make little difference.

I’m fine after a break. But when I had a full-time office job, this wasn’t possible.

Filled with a phalanx of inflexible deadlines, afternoons were agony.

Out of Time

I’ve read that we mess with our body clocks and bio rhythms at our peril.

I’m lucky I don’t have to travel through time zones for work.

Some of the jet-lag zombies I see at the airport are enough to put you off your Frappuccino.

If you’re one of these poor undead, how do you cope?

I’ve also been interested in seasonal affective disorder. Cracking the SADs is definitely no laughing matter.

Time Signal

I’d love to know whether you’re a morning, afternoon or night person.

Have you always been this way?

Is it your nature or your choice?

Running a business can make extraordinary demands on our time.

What happens when you have to work at the wrong time of the day, week, month or year?

Have you any tips for us fellow time travellers?

Consider this your wake-up call!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

                                           How do you curb your desires?

My tiler returned for an encore performance last week.

In chatting, he asked how I discipline myself to work from home.

My answer came easily enough, but it got me thinking more deeply:

Do we business owners approach self discipline in different ways?

TV Dinner

I don’t really like television, apart from docos and the odd movie. These usually run at night, when the day’s work is done.

I’ve heard, however, that the pull of Oprah (and even more hideous daytime offerings) is irresistible for many.

How about you?

Working Wife

Fonnie works 50 hours a week.

We have common goals, so it’d be pretty bloody ordinary if I lay on our couch eating chocolates all day while she busts a gut.

Debt Bidden

I’m so keen to kill our mortgage that I’m driven to rise as soon as I wake – even if it’s 4 am.

I get a kick out of nailing jobs and a bigger kick when the money finally rolls in.

Faffing round the house just isn’t as satisfying.

Safety Valve

Occasionally I feel unable to create.

At these times I default to less demanding admin tasks until the clouds part.

(If deadlines don’t permit this, I’m in hell.)

If my admin is done, I walk the dogs or take photos.

Gradually, the benefits of these activities override the worry and guilt of being away from my desk.

When I return, I’m in much better shape to pick up where I left off.

Freedom of Choice

Ironically, the liberty to do anything I want governs what I actually do.

I imagine it’s like having a balcony or swimming pool: you may never use it, but you know you can.

So, rather than blow six months’ time and revenue on a radio-controlled B-29, I’m content to snap my environs for half an hour every now and then.

Secret Life of You

How do you avoid the temptations of working from home?

Does your discipline derive from:

• Fear.
• Love.
• Habit.
• Need.
• Pride.
• Willpower.
• Something else.

Or are you a secret couch-hogging, choccy-scoffing, telly-watching sham?

If the latter, I don’t expect you to confess.

But it would be rather fun.

Mush!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

I work alone from my home office. Running your own business is great, but it can make you a bit paranoid.

Last year was tough and, as my only employee, I really carried the can.

When December came, I felt a party was needed to reward effort and boost morale.

Before

I asked for volunteers to form a committee. Naturally, I was the only one who gave a damn. After squabbling over the budget, I decided not to allow partners.

I couldn’t agree on a venue, so opted to have the party at the office. I did the invite myself, after the printer said he couldn’t be bothered with such a small run.

The name tags didn’t take long either.

The RSVPs came back straight away, with 100% acceptance. I took it as a good omen.

I ordered light beer (someone had to look out for company liability) and a variety of appetisers. Even those horrible spurty asparagus vol-au-vents that burn your mouth.

I sourced a Portaloo in case there was a queue.

Anyone who’s organised a party knows what a time-consuming and thankless task it is. My sole reward for chairing the committee was that I got to choose where I sat.

During

I’d booked a limo for the night, but was the only one to cough up his share. It cost a fortune, since some idiot got the address wrong.

I arrived late because I didn’t want to be uncool. Even so, the cook, waiter, barman and DJ were the only people present. They seemed to be having a pretty good time.

The smoke, strobes and balloons were disorienting. I put up with it, recalling that I too had been young once. I’d authorised a taxi voucher, so I figured it was safe to have a tipple.

The barman gave me a drink with a funny name. It didn’t taste like beer, wine or orange juice.

The theme was ‘Fun with Fur’. I was disappointed when I saw another koala in the bathroom. Whoever it was must have also been upset, since they stayed there all night and wouldn’t talk to me.

The DJ refused to play my request, so I went outside to join the party games. I might be the boss, but I’m not aloof.

The limbo competition was a dead loss and blind man’s bluff took forever, but I won every other event except the three legged race (there were odd numbers).

The dinner was fine, though the Christmas crackers were impossible and some prankster rearranged the name cards. I ordered chicken but got beef and no one would swap. That’s gratitude!

In my speech I thanked everyone for coming. Despite having the best sales figures, I didn’t get a bonus; I’m so tight.

I did a quick change into Santa; I don’t think anyone realised it was me. Kris Kringle was a giveaway, but at least I got what I wanted. I even won the door prize.

The dessert wafers were so small, the waiter put two of them straight on my tongue. I left the party an hour later so as not to cramp my style.

Once I was gone, I really cut loose.

I did a skit taking the piss out of the boss. No one laughed – out of respect I guess. When the DJ played ‘Time Warp’ and ‘Nutbush City Limits’, everyone danced in time.

I fired up the jukebox when the DJ left, but someone chose the same song seven times. I quite like the Nolan Sisters, but I felt for those who didn’t.

I tried a conga line but it didn’t catch on, so I grabbed the company video camera.

I couldn’t find anyone to film except the koala in the bathroom, who also happened to be filming.

When the hired help had gone, I went outside for a ciggie. No one would let me back in and I had to smash a window. The cops came; then the fire brigade.

Some fool had butted out on my tree fern.

At least there were no gate crashers.

After

Now I always front for work no matter how much I’ve drunk but I almost couldn’t face myself the next morning.  

No one offered to help clean up and the only bright moment was when a bunch of thank-you flowers came.

You put these parties on and people make a mockery of them. Next year someone else can organise the damn thing.

Come to think of it, I might even take myself off the guest list!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

Megan brilliantly suggested that my wife describe her experience of my home-based business. Fonnie’s job title at The Feisty Empire is Voice of Reason – a thorny, thankless role that she performs admirably.

Now, while the Voice of Reason was happy to share her thoughts on life at Empire House, she wanted the Senior Writer to record them. Here, then, are her authorised impressions, good and bad.

Happiness

My former career in human resources was grinding me into a paste. Desperately unhappy and longing for change, I was very poor company. When Fonnie backed me to pursue a career in writing, I was transformed. Though (like everyone) I still have bad days, I’m infinitely more content.

Abnormality

When Fonnie wakes at 5.30am, I’m often already at my desk. When she comes home at 7pm, I’m still there. I sneak away during TV ad breaks to check my emails (sometimes not to return). Walking the dogs, I can talk Empire for the whole 6 km. Fonnie occasionally wishes for a husband who leaves work at work.

Freedom

When Fonnie takes leave, so can I; there’s no boss to beg. If she’s sick, I can drop everything to drive her to the doctor. If she wants a weekend away, I can take Friday or Monday off (provided I don’t have pressing deadlines). Just as she helps me, I’m able to do chores for her – like collecting dry cleaning or interstate visitors any time of the day.

Worry

When work goes quiet and revenue stops flowing, Fonnie worries. A lot. The five months from last November were particularly sepulchral, and Fonnie wasn’t convinced that teaching myself Web 2.0 was a better activity than drumming up new business.

Fortunately, Fonnie now realises that Web 2.0 was definitely the way to go. The work is flowing better, but there’s still no way we can tell if my last job was … my last.

Pride

Fonnie’s proud of what I do. She likes to read this blog and is impressed with my new website. She tells her friends when I’m in the media and stayed up all night to listen to my first graveyard shift. Her pride, wisdom and insight keep my myriad activities true.

Stress

When I get more work than I can handle, I stress. Too much work can trigger as much tension as none. Fonnie would like me to take things easier, set realistic deadlines and do each job calmly in turn. I’m getting better at this too.

Well, that’s the Empire’s Voice of Reason done. I’d now like you to summon your partner for their frank feedback on life in your business.

I can’t wait to see what they say!