Essential Baby blogger Joseph Kelly
There’s an old saying that you can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family. Very wise words indeed, however I suggest an amendment: you can choose your friends unless fate and your children choose them for you.
Quite a few years ago I worked in a big open plan office with about forty other people. Not only were all the desks open, but so too was the kitchen and the lunchroom. It was a bizarre experience but I learnt a lot about open plan etiquette: you have to speak quietly on the phone (something I never mastered), not eat smelly food at your desk and definitely keep your politics to yourself. You also have to be cordial with the other staff but always remember that, while you might all share the same space day in day out, you are definitely not friends. Over familiarity is the black plague of open plan offices.
I had happily forgotten all about this experience until just a couple of years ago. I was dropping Maisie at kinder when I literally bumped into the mum of one of Maisie’s friends. As I apologised she looked at me and declared that she knew me from somewhere. Being one of four brothers who all look vaguely alike I have been in this position a number of times before and have, unfortunately, learnt to be blunt. “I don’t think so” I said and went to move on. Suddenly the penny dropped – we were both former inmates of the fiendish open plan experiment.
After exchanging some pleasantries, and remembering that her name was Meg, I was surprised to find that Meg and I had very different responses to our reunion. For her part Meg, who had just moved into the area, appeared genuinely excited to meet someone that she had a prior connection with. She was also very interested to know my comings and goings since my exodus from Partitionsville. For my part, I found it very hard to talk to Meg because a big voice deep inside my head kept saying things like “be friendly but don’t mention anything personal” and “don’t ever bring steamed dim sims into the office”. It has been a long time since I was so relieved to leave a conversation.
So I was a bit anxious the next week when Susie came home and said she’d run into a woman called Meg at kinder who said she used to work with me. I told Susie that yes, Meg and I had worked together, that Meg was a lovely person but that the collapse of the whole home/ work/ kinder divide was freaking me out. Susie was sympathetic to my concerns for about three seconds before telling me to get over it. Over the next few weeks Meg and Susie had caught up a few times at kinder and got to the ‘stop and chat’ phase of their relationship. This inevitably led to the play date which, as history teaches us, is a mere talisman to the family barbecue.
So despite every conceivable obstacle I could put up to prevent Meg crossing the ‘friend’ line, I’ve unwittingly found myself in the position where not only do I know such personal details as her children’s names and even where she lives, but I actually enjoy catching up with her and her husband. And now that Meg’s daughter and Maisie are in grade one together, I imagine the next six or so years will produce plenty more barbecue opportunities. All of which goes to show that as powerful a behavioural force as the office is, it is no match for the overwhelming unifying power of the playground.
Have you had friendships develop through kinder? Do you chat at the kinder gate or drop and run? Comment on Joseph Kelly's blog.
