Pull up a seat

In celebration of Israeli work practices (though I would have to admit that the following episode could happen anywhere) I thought I'd share a highlight.

[ 'She' has told me to watch my language, because some of our elders may be reading this, but be warned, I might not be able to control myself. ]

Yesterday, my company decided to treat its workers to some new ergonomic seating. Cue a gaggle of sample chairs on my floor, accompanied by a gaggle of workers keen to wiggle their asses as far into each chair as possible. I'm not an ergonomics expert, but I have my doubts as to the health benefits of a bright purple chair. And when Fat Irit, all 300kg of her, wiggled her ample ass into one of those seats, I'm sure the whole concept of ergonomics went flying out of the window. Quite literally.

Anyway, what has got me fucking mad is the three forms requiring completion, one for EACH chair. I'm up to my eyeballs in work and yet I have to invest time in this pointless task. Every single worker in the company has to fill out these forms, each 3 pages in length. "Can't I just have that nice, comfy chair, over there in the corner?" "Nope, we want you to really appreciate that we're appreciating you serfs." "Ah, OK, so give me the forms, the ones with the ridiculous questions". "Ah, you mean questions like these...":

"Would you recommend this chair to your best friend?" What the fuck would Mike the mechanic want with one of these?
"Do you feel that the chair's texture spoils you and supports you at the same time?" Oh yes, my pummeled buttocks have reported back to me that they feel rejuvenated and are now ready to put in some overtime.

Welcome to the world of Israeli management. Plenty more of this kind of stuff to come.