Linda has control of the office air conditioner again. Photo / 123rf
While most people are watching the news and focusing on conflicts happening on the other side of the world, there’s another one brewing a little closer to home.
It doesn’t make headlines, there are no updates on Truth Social, and no one’s calling for a ceasefire, but every year about this time, the battle kicks off. And the battlefield isn’t some far-off place. It’s the workplace.
More specifically, the office air conditioning.
Because in this world, and especially in the office, there always seem to be two types of people.
Those who think Die Hard is a Christmas movie, and those who are wrong. Those who follow the meeting agenda, and those who treat it more like a loose guideline, which, if we’re being honest, are usually the same people who called the meeting that could have been an email in the first place. And those who are always cold, and those who are somehow running a year-round summer operation.
Take Linda, for example. Linda is always cold; not just in winter, but all year round.
She arrives at her desk, layered like she’s preparing for an expedition with Sir Edmund Hillary, wearing a jersey, possibly another jersey, and a jacket that is used as a lap blanket for most of the morning.
By mid-morning, despite all of this preparation, she’ll look up and say, almost casually, that it’s a bit cold in here.
What makes Linda particularly interesting is that she doesn’t just get up and adjust the temperature herself.
Instead, she sends the team an email.
Polite, measured, includes a fun gif of a shivering cat and just a “friendly” suggestion that perhaps the temperature could be looked at.
It sounds like a shared concern, but more often than not, it results in everyone else feeling the room get a little warmer, whether they wanted it or not.
On the other side, you’ve got Steve.
Steve operates on a completely different system.
Shorts year-round, sometimes short-shorts, yep, 70s stubbies in that classic one-size-too-small fit, tan-coloured, and laughing in the face of winter like it only exists in Linda’s head or at her desk.
Steve doesn’t say much, but he notices everything.
The moment the temperature shifts or the thermometer is touched, there’s a pause from that very important CC-all email, a glance toward the unit, and before long, he’s on his feet, wandering past and quietly adjusting it back.
No email, no discussion, just a silent correction that restores what he believes to be balance.
Then there’s Jason, who has taken a different approach altogether.
Jason’s running what can only be described as a small under-desk heating operation.
It’s innocent enough with a compact heater tucked away out of sight, just enough to create a little pocket of warmth that exists completely separate from whatever is happening in the rest of the room.
Jason sits there in complete comfort while the rest of the office continues the ongoing negotiation around him.
He’s not part of the battle anymore; he’s opted out with the same satisfaction as hitting “unsubscribe” on the team email about the social club.
Of course, like any good idea, it doesn’t stay contained.
One heater becomes two, two becomes three, and before long, the official air conditioning is working overtime while a network of personal heating solutions quietly undoes all of that effort from underneath the desks.
And that’s office climate change. The battle of the thermostat, complete with passive-aggressive emails, the occasional genuinely aggressive one, and constant adjustments up and down throughout the day. And right in the middle of it all, the climate change deniers, quietly running fan heaters like power bills are for other people.
Which got me thinking.
Now I don’t think I’m about to solve global conflict, and I’m fairly confident I won’t be picking up the Fifa Peace Prize any time soon (apparently a very real and completely legitimate award).
Because the way I see it, the problem isn’t actually the temperature at all, but the feeling that we need to control it.
There’s a great example of this in the United States, where in many lifts the “close door” button doesn’t actually do anything.
It’s not connected, it’s just there so people feel like they’re doing something.
You press it, you feel better, and the doors close when they were always going to close anyway.
Everyone walks away thinking they’ve had a say in the process.
And I reckon the office air conditioning could learn a lot from that.
Imagine a thermostat next to everyone’s desk. It looks real, it feels real, and it even makes that satisfying little click when you turn it, but it doesn’t actually control anything.
Linda turns hers up to a “tropical island” setting and starts thinking she might be able to dust off the bikini after all.
If Steve can wear his one-size-too-small shorts, she should be allowed to wear a bikini.
Steve, just a desk away, is quietly dialling his back to what he considers a more sensible setting, satisfied that balance has been restored.
Jason, of course, doesn’t touch it at all, because his system is already in place and working just fine.
Meanwhile, the actual temperature in the office stays exactly the same.
No emails, no silent walk-bys, no arms race, just a group of people who all believe they’ve had their say.
Because at the end of the day, this was never really about the air con.
It’s about people, and about that small moment where you walk past a control panel and think you’ll just make a slight adjustment.
And if we can solve that, we might finally get through winter without needing three layers, a personal heater, ice-blocks in our socks, and Bill’s carefully worded email to the entire team warning everyone not to touch the air con.