by Michael Finley
Copyright © 1996 by Michael Finley

I've been buried in a work project involving lots of research, so I was surrounded by handwritten notes, opened books, newspaper clippings, and Web printouts. On top of that was my regular mess: Diet Coke cans, spent coffee cups, and discarded yogurt containers. And on top of all that was the effluvia of my current office-mate -- mostly chew toys and rawhide scraps.

I said to myself, you really have to do something about that dog.

But it occurred to me, as I raked up our debris, that every home office is different, according to the temperament of its primary denizen.

I rang up a psychologist who is an expert on personality typology. Sure enough, he was able to describe for me four basic types of person, and how each might maintain a home office. Read each one, and consider people who match the types.

The doer. The doer is action in action, so the doer office is a no-frills affair. The walls may be plain except for a calendar and a bulletin board for scheduling and messages. The doer is not a gardener or a lollygagger, so forget potted plants and forget photos of loved ones. A powerful newish computer is likely, but not power for the sake of power or techno fashion. Everything has a purpose, or out it goes.

This could be my stepdad, who ran a trucking and excavating company from his basement. Dick was hyperactive and could barely stand to even be in the office -- he had to be out, on the job site. While he had a computer and maintained business correspondence and accounting files, no one ever accused him of keeping good track of any of it. He didn't like computers because they made him deskbound, but man did he love that cell phone.

The dreamer. Appearance is everything to this archetype, so a lot of effort goes into creating an environment that makes a statement. The dreamer's office may be stylish and flamboyant, or it may be cluttered, like mine, but full of interesting things. You're sure to find lots of toys and cartoons. There are various subtypes of dreamers: power dreamers, who want to pretend their broom closet is an 11th floor corner suite; exotic dreamers, who make their offices into a seraglio, Nautilus room, or circus tent, and dreamers like me who are so transfixed they don't notice they are in a pig sty.

My friend Barbara, an alternative healer, turned her home office into a virtual fortune teller's wagon. You enter the room through a bead curtain. Her Macintosh is shrouded in a kind of apricot-colored parachute-cloth shrine. Most days, the place is festooned with cut flowers, whatever was for sale at Lunds that day. Scented candles burn long into the night.

The analyst. Analysts are the loneliest home office users, but you seldom hear them complain, because they are at home among data, and the home office gives them tremendous freedom to do their thing. These people are organized to the max. The office is functional but tidy, with plenty of storage space for information: tall file cabinets, big hard drives, and lots of Bankers Boxes(R) [I just got a e-mail from Fellowes, makers of Bankers Boxes(R) requesting that I capitalize the uncapitalized phrase and stamp it with the bug] stacked up in the closets.

My brother Pat qualifies. He is an amateur chess player, and his hobby for the past 40 years has been to play games with himself, not on a chessboard but in a steno pad, recording each "side's" moves with a ball-point pen. In the last couple of years he has switched over to a Pentium multimedia machine, but the meticulousness has carried over.

The functionary. These people, the temperamental opposites of doers, really don't want to be at their desk, but they understand that they may be there for a long time. So they surround themselves with mementos of things they like better -- pictures of family and pets, encouraging slogans, and maybe a plant, to remind them to hang in there. These people have little control over the PC they are sitting at -- but they may festoon it with a smiley-face screensaver, or by naming it Nellie-Bell.

Most functionaries don't work at home, of course. Once they are on their own turf, they are liberated to become what they want to be -- dreamers, eccentrics, fan dancers. I remember a fellow like this who officed near me at the university years ago. In the corner of his office he kept an electric shoe buffer.

And I think this is what happened to me. This week marks my thirteenth year of unemployment, or self-employment. Over the years my home office has waxed and waned, as it has adapted to being a thoroughfare for toddlers, a meeting place for clients and friends, and now a dormitory for my dog.

This typology was a good reminder that it's OK to be who you are. Dull functionaries of the commuting world, go home, and paint your ceiling neon pink. And kick over a trash can -- it's yours. "Bless this mess" is not such a bad banner to do battle under. Especially when it's yours.

Michael Finley is co-author with Harvey Robbins of Why Change Doesn't Work. Visit Mike at http://mfinley.com, or write him directly at mfinley@mfinley.com.