Latest news with #office
Extra.ie
2 days ago
- General
- Extra.ie
Escaped bees cause havoc in Washington State
A rescue operation is underway in the US State of Washington after over 250 million bees escaped, when the truck they were being transported in overturned on a major highway. The truck which was hauling around 70,000 lbs of active honey bee hives, flipped over on a road near the Canadian border, prompting authorities there to issue warnings for the general public to avoid the area. Stock image The Whatcom County Sherrifs office said they had put out a call and received help from a number of local beekeepers who were trying to recapture as many of the stinging insects as possible and said the site of the crash would remain closed until the rescue is completed. A statement issued by the local police said '250 million bees are now loose' and the public were being advised to avoid the area due to the potential of bee swarms forming. Photo: Whatcom County Sherriffs Office Police said 'The plan is to allow these bees to re-hive and find their queen bee and that should occur within the next 24 to 48 hours'. While a lot of bee-keepers aim only to produce honey, some of the others rent out their hives to local farmers who need the bees to polllinate their crops. Its hoped the majority of the bees will find their way home before the weekend is out.
CNA
2 days ago
- Business
- CNA
Somebody that I used to know: On the weird grief of colleague departures
This question has become part of my awkward welcome ritual for new hires: 'So ... are you a coffee person?' Day one usually begins at the cafe downstairs with a quick hello, a commemorative libation (coffee or otherwise), then a climb up the stairs to commence our journey as co-workers. Over the past decade of running my company, I've continued to personally onboard new workers. It's not that I can't trust someone else to do it. I just really enjoy it. I like showing them our 'designated crying area' (our pantry space) and explaining the curious phenomenon of the office bidet geyser. I like going through our culture deck, throwing in a few jokes to break the ice and seeing them decide how heartily they should laugh. It's orientation, yes, but also something more – a quiet hope that if you make them feel welcome and you remember their coffee order, they might stay a little longer. Then they leave. Sometimes after three years, sometimes three months. Sometimes on a good note, sometimes a strained one. And in that abrupt silence that follows, between offboarding checklists and looking at handover documents, I find myself wondering if any of these efforts were worth it. WON'T YOU STAY WITH ME? About a decade ago, the first person that I hired when I started the company decided to make a jump to a much bigger, more prestigious agency. It was a competitor but it paid her better and had a much more conducive structure for her career development. It made sense for her. We parted on good terms, but it was hard to maintain the same friendship once we no longer shared the day-to-day routines. Even seeing her career milestones pop up on social media triggered a small wave of disappointment – not at her, but at myself. It was insecurity and a bit of resentment all wrapped up in a forced double-tap of the 'like' button. We didn't speak for a long time. Only after a good five years had passed could we both approach the situation with some perspective and humour. Thankfully, we're now friendly again. This isn't a story about attrition rates or talent migration. It's about the emotional tax of investing in people who eventually walk away. No one tells you, when you first become a manager, that the job requires a strange kind of short-term memory. You pour time into someone, build a rhythm, start speaking in shared references and inside jokes – and then, poof, they're gone. Off to bigger things and better pay. The relationship seems to end abruptly there, apart from the occasional LinkedIn sightings. I know that's just the way the cookie crumbles. The workplace today is a revolving door of industry pivots, mental health breaks and career realignments. Everyone's chasing something – balance, purpose, remuneration, title and so on – and it's unlikely that staying in one place can offer everything. Still, why do I feel a small sting every time someone leaves? SOMEBODY THAT I USED TO KNOW I'll be honest. I still find it difficult not to take departures from the company personally. Not in a dramatic, weeping-in-the-toilet way, but in those smaller moments. When a photo of a past team outing pops up on social media, in a photo album or the memories in your head. Or when you retrieve an old presentation deck and you see the names tagged in the slides. Certainly not because they're wrong to go but maybe it's because, for a brief window of time, I had imagined a future where we'd keep building something together. This emotional dilemma isn't exclusive to managers and supervisors. The departure I've taken the hardest happened when I was still a junior executive, in the infancy of my career. At the time, I was part of a desk cluster with a senior who wasn't my direct boss, but who had become a de facto mentor. Christopher was soft-spoken, serious and a little stoic, but he always humoured my terrible puns. We'd often sneak off for 'planning sessions' at the canteen that had very little to do with planning. We talked about movies, music, family – the kind of conversations that anchor you during chaotic work days. One afternoon, Christopher told me that the following week would be his last with the company. He'd found a better opportunity elsewhere. In the 2002 Hong Kong movie Infernal Affairs, there's a pivotal scene where Tony Leung, playing an undercover police officer, watches the only person who knows his true identity get killed. The camera lingers on his expression of shock and horror and this remains one of the strongest gut punches in cinematic history. On that day when Christopher told me the news, my expression would've made Tony's look mild at best. 'Oh. Congrats, Chris!' I managed to say. 'Happy for you.' Two weeks later at his cleaned-out desk, I shook his hand and said all the right things: 'Let's keep in touch. Don't be a stranger.' What I couldn't shake was the strange sense of grief and futility. What would be the point of keeping in touch if we no longer worked together? FRIENDS ARE FRIENDS … FOREVER? What is 'workplace culture'? We like to talk about it in terms of values and vision statements, but most of it comes down to the people. It is who you sit next to, the person who replies with a meme instead of a boring thumbs-up, the one who makes the 5pm slump bearable. So when they leave, it isn't just another email from the human resource department. It's a permanent glitch in your work day. Conventional business wisdom dictates that investing in people is never a waste, even when they might come and go – because people are the most valuable assets of any company. I've echoed those things. I even genuinely believe them. But there's another truth, too: that what isn't a waste can still sometimes feel like one regardless. It's only human of us to feel something, especially after we've poured hours into someone – coaching, giving feedback, having conversations over coffee and bubble tea – only to have them resign right when they finally started getting it. Maybe it is not quite bitterness but certainly, there is a sense of jadedness. The kind that makes you want to pull back with the next person, just a little. Don't get too attached. Don't ask about their weekend or their interests. Don't joke too much. Here's the catch: If you stop investing in your people earnestly and genuinely, you will slowly become the kind of manager you swore you'd never be. Transactional. Coldly efficient. Checked out. And ironically, that's exactly the kind of environment people want to leave. So I will keep trying, even when the farewell Slack message reads like a LinkedIn boilerplate. I will keep hoping that somewhere along the way, the time we spent together meant something. That, in between rushed deadlines and Monday check-ins, we managed to become more than just colleagues ticking boxes on a task list. Maybe that's the point – to make the workplace not just somewhere people pass through, but somewhere they felt seen, where they felt real connection, even if briefly. I love how Andy Bernard movingly puts it in the series finale of American sitcom The Office: "I wish there was a way to know you're in the good old days before you've actually left them." The real treasure, as they say, might just be the friends we made along the way.
The Guardian
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Tim Dowling: I need to drop everything so I can get back to doing nothing
I am sitting in my office shed, marvelling that an email from a car hire company I last used six years ago feels entitled to employ the subject line DROP EVERYTHING. 'It's hard to imagine,' I say, 'how a 20% reduction in rental rates for the month of June could be sufficient cause for anyone to suddenly abandon their present business, be it knee surgery, adoption proceedings or, in this specific case, Wordle.' The dog, which is lying on the step in front of the open door, lifts its head to look at me – an emboldening reminder that as long as I'm sharing space with an animal, I'm technically not talking to myself. 'Then again, I have sort of dropped everything to read this email,' I say. My wife walks up to the door, leans in and hands me a small box. 'I found these in the car,' she says. 'You requested them at some point.' The box contains wooden plant labels – essentially ice lolly sticks with one pointed end – which would have served a definite and supportable purpose about three weeks ago. 'Yeah, a while back,' I say. 'Not at all,' my wife says, turning for the kitchen. I examine the box: the back bears a photographic illustration of a properly deployed plant label, stuck pointy end down into some soil next to a seedling. On the label someone has helpfully written 'Plant Name' in a neat cursive hand. The accompanying instructions say: 'Simply push in.' 'Can it really be that simple?' I say, looking up to find that the dog has followed my wife back to the house. I gaze across the rows of seedlings I planted out in the raised bed in a frantic hurry when they outgrew their trays – some struggling, some thriving, all of them unlabelled. I convinced myself I would remember which row was which – I was wrong. But now, I realise, a solution is at hand: I can write 'Plant Name' on all my new labels, and simply push them in. Ten minutes later, my wife returns. 'I have someone coming for lunch,' she says. 'Could you possibly mow the lawn?' I swivel my chair to look at her. 'What, just drop everything?' I say. 'What is it you're actually doing?' she says. 'That,' I say, 'is not a question I feel the need to answer.' 'She's coming at one, so,' my wife says. 'Fine,' I say. All things being equal, I am an enthusiastic supporter of basic safety precautions. That said, I'm pretty certain it's not a good idea to mow the lawn in flip-flops, and yet I have already made the decision not to change out of them and into shoes. I resent having my working day interrupted, even though I'm not working. Writing involves a certain level of tactical time-wasting – you sometimes have to bore yourself into concentrating. Absorbing menial chores – cutting the grass, say – are no help. I need to get back to doing nothing, and quickly. Anyway, I tell myself as I begin, the lawnmower has a sort of dead man's handle – if I keeled over from a heart attack the blades would stop turning. What's the worst that could happen? This question is answered almost as soon as I ask it: pulling the lawnmower backwards from a tight corner, I step out of my left flip-flop and partially run it over. It's not ruined – just scarred – but the sight of it is immediately sobering. My wife's guest arrives at one. It's not clear, from my vantage point at the other end of the garden, how my own lunch plans are affected. Am I invited? Or am I supposed to wait until the guest departs, and then slither over to feed on whatever scraps remain? The dog comes out and resumes lying in front of my office door. 'What's going on in there?' I say. 'Are they eating yet?' The dog stares straight ahead, as if it hasn't heard me. How long, I think, before hunger drives me to go and investigate? The answer is: not that long. The guest, it turns out, is our friend Louise. 'Hello,' I say, looking at the plates. 'Well done for staying away for a whole hour,' my wife says. 'I've saved you some food.' 'I can't eat now,' I say, 'I'm busy.' 'He's busy,' says Louise. 'I just came in to say hi,' I say, turning to leave. 'There he goes,' my wife says. 'Flip, flop, flip, flop.' Back in my office, I sit at my desk, staring at a blank white screen and thinking about just dropping everything and hiring a car.
Arabian Business
3 days ago
- Business
- Arabian Business
Allsopp & Allsopp
If you're in the throws of setting up a new company, you'll be aware that an office is an essential part of the process and needed in order to get a trade license. Take a look at how you can systematically approach this process.
Forbes
5 days ago
- Business
- Forbes
3 Ways To Find Your Power Time For Optimal Focus And Productivity
Shot of a handsome young businessman focusing during his power time while working at his desk in the ... More office In most of my conversations with professionals, one of the biggest challenges they face is staying focused on what truly matters. Despite having a 'perfectly planned' day, constant instant messages and interruptions pull them off track, leaving them frustrated and unfulfilled. By the end of the day, they often feel like they've accomplished nothing of real value—work begins to feel boring, repetitive, or even demotivating. That's where identifying your 'power time' can make all the difference. When you align your most meaningful, high-impact tasks with the times you naturally feel most focused and energized, you regain control over your day. Power time allows you to do more of the work you enjoy, get into flow, and ultimately achieve better results in less time. Your power time is that specific window of time during the day when you experience peak focus, clarity, and mental energy. This is when your cognitive abilities are at their best, and you can dive into high-stakes, challenging tasks without feeling drained or distracted. Understanding this window is essential because it allows you to prioritize your most demanding work during those moments, ensuring that your most important tasks get the attention they deserve. Everyone has a unique rhythm to their productivity, as I mentioned in my latest article What is the best time to work: Align tasks with your circadian rhythm. For some, the early morning hours are when they feel most energized and focused, as willpower tends to be at its peak at the beginning of the day. As the day progresses, willpower tends to diminish. Others may find that their creative spark ignites later in the day or even in the evening; it also depends on the type of work you do. The key to maximizing your productivity is recognizing when you naturally feel most alert, clear-headed, and capable of tackling complex tasks, and identifying what type of tasks you need to do at that time. Your power time should be reserved for the 20% of tasks that drive 80% of your results—the high-impact work that moves the needle according to the famous Pareto rule. These are often the activities that require the deepest focus and bring you the most fulfillment, such as strategizing, writing, designing, problem-solving, or making key decisions. They are typically more complex and cognitively demanding, but also the ones that allow you to experience a state of flow. By aligning these tasks with your power time, you not only improve the quality of your output but also increase the satisfaction you derive from your work. Think of it as your opportunity to do the work you do best—without distractions, meetings, or multitasking pulling you away. The process of discovering your power time involves experimenting with your schedule and being mindful of your energy levels. Experiment with tracking when you feel most focused and productive. When do you feel most creative? When can you solve complex problems with ease? By identifying when you're at your best, you can start aligning your most important tasks with that time. Once you've identified your power time, the next step is to create a routine that ensures you're using it effectively. Establishing a consistent routine trains both your body and mind to expect and support deep concentration at the same time each day or week. For example, try timeboxing two uninterrupted hours on your calendar daily. Make this time sacred by blocking it so that nobody can schedule meetings. Avoid checking emails or messages during this period so you can sustain a state of flow without distractions. Over time, you'll find it easier to dive into your work, and the regularity of your power time will make it a habit rather than a struggle. The key to unlocking your highest productivity is understanding your personal power time and structuring your day around it. By identifying when you are at your best and reserving that time for your most important work, you can make significant strides in your career, projects, and personal goals. Incorporating power time into your daily or weekly routine is one of the most effective strategies for achieving lasting success. It's time to find your power time and make it work for you.
