Setting the debate of appearances and brain real estate aside, there's still something special about Lauren's situation. There was no claim to be made that these games were going to help or hurt her work. This was her unpaid lunch hour. Why would an hour of gaming at lunch at your desk not be permitted when going home for lunch and playing there is?
I decided speak to a senior manager at Lauren's company about this paradox. "Conversations around the cooler, smoke breaks, long lunches, personal phone calls, leaving early to pick up your kids: all OK." he said stoically. "But two minutes of 'beep beep' at lunch time and you are a slacker." His words confirmed my suspicions: None of those "acceptable" practices make it look like you aren't working. If you're not there, you can't look like you're actively slacking; if you're on the phone, it could very well be with a client; but playing a game is a clear visual sign that you're doing something else.
Other problems associated with the five-minute and lunch time gamer were explained to me by our company's system administrator. Despite being a gamer himself, he was obstinately against allowing games to be played at work. As much as he appreciates the idea of being able to have some fun, he'd rather not deal with repairing, formatting and re-installing PCs belonging to colleagues who accidentally installed spyware or viruses, or who botched the game installation itself. To him, people don't know what they're doing, and with too much freedom get themselves into trouble.
Not that I really blame him, but to me, banning all gaming at work because of viruses is like banning cars because of drunk drivers. Although, for the limited time available for play, perhaps the benefits are minimal enough that allowing gaming might not be worth the hassle. Of course, this problem could be side-stepped entirely, with an employee bringing in a portable gaming system for lunch hour play, bringing the question back to appearance of gaming.
Irish clergyman and philosopher George Berkeley once wrote, "Esse est percipi," or "to exist is to be perceived." I would add that the nature of existence lies in the nature of perception. Lauren's case displays how outsiders perceive gaming at work and how those perceptions actually define the act. But support or condemnation based on perception extends into worker-boss relationships and inter-colleague relationships, as well.
Lauren's story rang familiar bells, reminding me of places where games are still barely accepted culturally, never mind in the work place. But there are exceptions. I currently work for a videogame company, having shed my game-fearing ex-colleagues. Between 12:01 and 12:59 pm, most of my coworkers don't leave their desk. Instead, they put their company-provided headphones on and escape to an hour of networked MMOG or FPS gaming.
All to say, perhaps the perception of gaming at work is an extension of the perception of gaming in general. Gaming is play, and if anything is antithesis to play, it's work. Perhaps, to many who populate the world's cubicles, games are goofing off, wasting time or kids' activities that in no way belong in an environment of professionalism. For Lauren and others like her, office-gaming will have to remain either non-existent, or at best covert. As for me ... I think I'll use my lunch hour to get some sun and fresh air.
Simon Abramovitch is a philosophy graduate and freelance writer, and currently maintains a blog about the purpose of humankind at www.thehumanpurpose.com
