Seat of affection

Desk chair is seat of affection
By Amy Joyce
Washington Post
Monday, January 19, 2004



WASHINGTON — When Denise Miller changed offices a month ago, she left her computer, filing cabinets and desk in the old office. She even left important files there for a while. The one thing she immediately took with her? The thing that meant the most, that she just couldn't be without?

"You spend eight hours a day in your chair. It's like a security blanket," she explained.

Miller, who works in corporate public relations at American Management Systems in Fairfax, Va., wants her own chair. Needs her own chair. Will never part with her chair until it is in a heap of metal and fabric on the floor. Because it's hers.

Sound familiar?

The folks at Steelcase Inc., the office-furniture giant, think so. So much so that they designed a chair last year with a slot on the back in which to slip the sitter's business card, a kind of insurance that the chair vultures in the office will be a little less apt to roll off with someone's favorite seat. The "Let's B" chair started to sell last summer in the United States and has been popular, said Ken Tamelig, group leader for seating (yes, really) at Steelcase.

Steelcase knows a lot about chairs and office workers. The company has spent many hours in offices, observing what we want and like about our chairs and what we require of them. In those visits, Steelcase employees have seen office dwellers scratch their names into chairs, hang pieces of identifying clothing over them and, in one case, chain a chair to a desk to make sure no one took it. "I know a guy who changed five jobs within the company and took his chair with him, state to state," Tamelig said.

It's not just a selfish, materialistic thing, this attachment to our own chairs. There are many people these days who are, as Tamelig called it, "working injured." Carpal tunnel syndrome, back problems and the like are common in these days of sedentary office life. So workers need something contoured to fit them and their aches and pains. As many of us know, it is hard to find that perfect fit.

Cancer researcher Nina Constantino keeps her sweater draped over her chair at her lab in Frederick, Md. Yes, the building is cold. But the sweater also marks the chair as hers. No one has dared to take the chair. "It's either the sweater, or I've instilled the fear of God in everyone," she said.

After his chair was "stolen," Kevin Barth, a programmer analyst at ORC-Macro International Inc. in Bethesda, Md., reported the loss. Got a replacement. That was stolen, too. So he used one from an empty office until he bought for himself "one of those ergonomic leather beasts from Staples."

"It's different (from the regular office chairs), so it's not going anywhere," he says now.

Chris Condayan, director of public relations for the National Mental Health Association in Alexandria, Va., will never forget when he and his chair were temporarily parted. The organization moved offices, and although his chair had his name on it, it was nowhere to be found in the new space. "It took me a nice long search and some false accusations before I eventually found it in some storeroom," he said. His name label had fallen off, and he "just wasn't satisfied with the replacement." He and his chair have now been together six years — minus a day.

Chairs are expensive — the Leap chair by Steelcase runs between $450 and $850; the Let's B is about $379. HermanMiller's Aeron chairs can cost $650 or more.

When a company buys its employees a piece of expensive comfort, it shows that management cares, goes the thinking. However, it also says: Here, sit and spend more time at the computer, because now you can.