The Reason the Office Isn’t Fun Anymore - Kanebridge News
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The Reason the Office Isn’t Fun Anymore

RIP eavesdropping. Employees are now hiding out in privacy booths or empty conference rooms, turning workplaces into quiet zones. ‘It’s weird.’

By RAY A. SMITH
Thu, Jan 18, 2024 9:33amGrey Clock 4 min

When David Witting prepared digital-marketing agency Dept@’s Boston-area offices for employees’ return in 2022, he ordered trendy couches, chairs and high tables, envisioning lively collaboration and banter.

Yet when his co-workers arrived, many skipped the furniture and gravitated toward the private booths scattered in the office. Since then he’s jettisoned some of the furniture, and added more booths.

“People are coming in to do occasional big meetings, but really the rest of the time, they want a quiet private spot to get on a Zoom call,” said Witting, a partner at the company. “It’s weird.”

As Covid-19’s remote-work surge fades, some workplaces are quieter and odder than ever. Employees have returned only to park themselves in deserted conference rooms or sound-muffling chambers. Colleagues grumble about booth-hogging co-workers, and some companies have started enforcing time limits on them.

The pods, some resembling old-school telephone booths, have emerged as one of the hottest segments in the $24 billion North American office-furniture industry. Manufacturers such as Room, Nook and Framery say business has been brisk. But some workers and managers say more booths means less eavesdropping, less gossiping, less camaraderie and less fun.

“It’s strange,” said William Blaze, a technology recruiter and consultant, referring to colleagues who end up occupying booths for much of their workdays. Blaze, who lives in Atlantic Highlands, N.J., observed the phenomenon while working at tech companies from 2021 to 2023, as well as at a client’s Manhattan co-working office where he now works two days a week.

“It seems that the goal of returning to office has been to create a rowdy buzz,” said Blaze. “We’re not seeing that.”

Janet Pogue McLaurin, global director of workplace research at architecture and design firm Gensler, said workplace privacy has never been more important. Many of the firm’s clients, which include big companies such as Amazon, have more than doubled their booths and other private or semi-private areas since the pandemic.

“This is a huge trend,” she said.

Demand for privacy has office architects and landlords scrambling to rearrange layouts. Open-plan offices, often dreaded by employees, are now being peppered with pods and booths that scream “do not disturb.”

Jamie Hodari, chief executive of global co-working company Industrious, said some workers are monopolising private areas in office spaces that were designed for professionals to connect with other professionals. “We see a lot more people linger for two hours post-phone call or a Zoom call because they like having a little space to themselves.”

Booth-inclined office workers say their needs have changed post-Covid, and they have a harder time concentrating among noise and distractions.

At CrowdComms, a U.K.-based maker of event technology, managing director Matthew Allen got used to working in near-silence at the office during the pandemic. When colleagues returned, their phone calls—even at normal volume—annoyed him so much he bought a sound-dampening booth.

Though it was ostensibly for the entire office, he soon moved in.

“It’s quite selfish,” said Allen, who has added a trio of plants. “I think it has very much become my home.”

On social-media sites such as X, Reddit and TikTok, employees generally celebrate the booths. Even Chatty Cathys are seeking them out. One X user tweeted that she locks herself in an office phone booth most days because she talks too much.

Others vent about booths’ poor ventilation and small size, or their aesthetics. Kirsten Auclair, a biomedical researcher in San Francisco, shudders at the harsh lighting in the booths she uses to take Zoom calls at work.

“It casts like the worst shadows, you look just kind of, like, on the brink of death,” she said. Still, Auclair considers the oasis from colleagues’ noise an office lifesaver.

Booth manufacturers insist their products can coexist with collegiality. SnapCab founder and CEO Glenn Bostock said the glass walls of his company’s pods allow for a sense of connection with co-workers.

“They can see you,” he said. “You can wave at them. You can still interact with people visually but you get that audio privacy.”

Other products seek a different balance between isolation and community. Furniture maker Steelcase offers a desk-encircling tent meant to ensure “territorial privacy” instead of silence. Nook, headquartered in the U.K., makes hut-shaped hideaways intended to provide sense of psychological safety without being completely enclosed.

Nook founder David O’Coimin said an office filled with phone booths “is like you have a jail instead of having a workplace.”

Furniture distributor Thinkspace sells booths that Sid Meadows, principal and vice president, said are designed to allow a low level of outside sound. Humans are wired to crave some background noise, he said, pointing to popular YouTube videos of ambient office chatter.

That matches the findings of a study co-authored by Dr. Esther Sternberg, director of the University of Arizona Institute on Place, Wellbeing and Performance. She and colleagues discovered people became stressed when their surroundings were too quiet as well as too loud. The typical volume of birdsong, at 45 decibels, appears to be just right.

Nick Fine, a user-experience researcher in London, describes himself as an “old school, pre pandemic office worker” who enjoys the hubbub of a busy workplace. But the now-hybrid worker still spends considerable time in an enclosed pod to work without overhearing his colleagues’ chatter on days he’s in the office.

“I have ADHD and working in a pod engages my hyper focus,” he said, adding he likes having the booth option when the din is too much.

Farmer’s Fridge, which sells fresh salads out of vending machines, has eight pods made by Zenbooth and a plethora of conference rooms in its Chicago office. It offers about 40 hideaways for the 85 people who work there, yet that bounty of isolation isn’t always enough, even for the CEO.

“I actually live three minutes from here,” said Luke Saunders, also the company’s founder. “If I really have to get work done, I do it at home.”



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As global demand for longevity treatments surges, Australia is fast becoming a player in this lucrative industry.

By Chelsea Spresser
Wed, Jan 8, 2025 3 min

There was a time — not so long ago — when the idea of an indulgent spa day was simply about relaxing massages and therapeutic facials, followed by a five-star lunch and perhaps a dip in a mineral pool. But the health and wellness industry has evolved rapidly, bringing with it an explosion of cutting-edge treatments designed to slow ageing, boost vitality, and extend healthspan.

Cold-water plunge pools, infrared saunas, and float tanks have taken over as the staples of health spas, wellness centres, and high-end gyms. Even real estate developments are tapping into this trend. But now, high-tech longevity treatments — from cryotherapy and IV infusions to genetic testing and advanced cellular therapies — are taking the wellness scene in Australia to unprecedented levels.

A burgeoning market globally, the health and wellness industry is estimated to have been worth more than US$5.6 trillion in 2022. Projections suggest this figure will grow to a staggering $13 trillion by 2031, with Australia steadily catching up to the US and Europe, where longevity treatments are thriving. High-profile figures like Gwyneth Paltrow, Jennifer Aniston, Chris Hemsworth, and even Tom Brady are among the faces championing biohacking and experimental therapies, from stem cell infusions to blood transfusions.

The Rise of Longevity Clinics in Australia
One of the key players in Australia’s emerging longevity scene is Tristan Sternson, founder of Super Young. Sternson’s foray into the world of longevity treatments began as he approached 40 — a milestone that made him reflect on his health. As a former elite athlete, the transition from feeling invincible to feeling vulnerable led him to explore solutions that would help him reclaim vitality.

Tristan Sternson, Nick Bell and Jarrod Kagan from Super Young

Initially frustrated by the lack of accessible health data locally, Sternson turned to overseas clinics for tests and treatments that painted a clearer picture of his biological needs. His experience inspired him to create Super Young, a Melbourne-based clinic offering evidence-based therapies tailored to individual needs. Services include cryotherapy, IV infusions, genetic testing, and biological age assessments. Memberships range from $85–$289 per week, while one-off tests start at $899.

Sternson emphasises the importance of personalised treatments. “I want people to start with the evidence side of it so they can really understand their own body and what treatments will work for them,” he says.

The Science of Longevity Medicine
Dr Karen Coates, an integrative medical doctor and a presenter for The Longevity Project at Gwinganna Lifestyle Retreat, echoes Sternson’s emphasis on personalisation. She explains that longevity isn’t just about living longer but about living better — optimising health today while securing vitality for the future.

“One-size-fits-all approaches don’t apply when it comes to longevity,” says Dr Coates. “It’s about understanding your body’s genetic makeup and adopting personalised strategies to support health and longevity.”

At Gwinganna’s four-night Longevity Project retreat, guests can undergo gene testing, biological age assessments, and learn strategies to bridge the gap between chronological and biological age. Packages for the retreat range from $2915 to $5460.

Biohacking for All Budgets
Not all longevity treatments come with hefty price tags. Health coach Camilla Thompson points out that simple lifestyle adjustments — like cold showers to stimulate circulation or adding Celtic sea salt to water for better hydration — can supplement advanced therapies.

While advanced treatments like stem cell and peptide therapies are yet to gain widespread regulatory approval in Australia, Sternson is optimistic about their future. He envisions a time when longevity centres will be as common as gyms, giving clients the tools to monitor and manage their health with precision.

“What I’d love to see is health insurance companies get on board,” Sternson adds. “If they can give discounts for safe driving based on car data, why not for healthy habits based on glucose monitoring or other health indicators?”

As Australia continues to embrace longevity medicine, it’s clear the industry is poised to reshape not just health and wellness but how Australians approach ageing itself.