Workspace.
There’s something romantic about a messy desk. The idea that the occupier (or owner or operator) is so indulged in his or her work that they don’t have the time to keep in order the area around them. A messy desk (typically organized in piles or stacks) looks like a hive of activity, and is always alive with the potential of destruction.
A clean desk is suspect. Surely must be hiding something, whether it is an abundance of loose papers and knick-knacks, or the fact that the person who sits themselves at that desk doesn’t actually do any work at all. Doesn’t generate any flotsam of jetsam of productivity. Is far more concerned with keeping things tidy than making some noise (literal or metaphorical or — heavens — both).
And there are, of course, those who don’t have a desk, instead acting as technological troubadours, securing themselves in spots on sofas or at tables in coffee shops. These people are the most despicable of all, for they do not leave behind any evidence of their effort through either disorder or sterility. They are simply ghosts with power cords.
