Hot Desking – Or For Me, Cold Desking

Many of you reading this either work in an office or have a friend who does and has mentioned “hot desking” at least once, usually with a tone that suggests it’s both progressive and mildly inconvenient.

For anyone fortunate enough to have avoided it, hot desking is when you don’t have a permanent desk. You check in, scan the floor and try to “bags” a seat before someone else does. Ideally before you even leave the house. Otherwise you arrive late and end up hovering awkwardly, much like walking into a Bikram yoga class five minutes after it has started and trying to find a sliver of floor for your mat without becoming part of someone else’s stretch.

I’ve heard stories of teams appointing one heroic early starter to arrive ahead of everyone else and strategically place jumpers and bags across an entire row of desks to secure the territory. A coordinated land claim disguised as teamwork. Sometimes it rotated, giving everyone a turn at the early rise and a few blessed mornings of sleeping in.

Then, inevitably, someone in HR found out and put a swift end to it (note I am in HR!).

My last two offices operated with 'hot desks'. One of those workplaces I’ve already written about in my “Agile, Yeah I Can Be Agile” story, when I realised that living like the Littlest Hobo, permanently semi-packed and emotionally unattached to furniture, might not actually be my style. Although, to be fair, it does make resigning quite efficient as you are already essentially boxed and ready to go!

The most recent office was technically hot desking, but in practice we had more desks than people, so you could usually find the one you were familiar with available. Most people didn’t book mine anyway, because everyone sort of knew it was “my” desk, even though officially it belonged to no one.

I did walk in once and find someone sitting there looking slightly apologetic. “That’s completely fine,” I said, because that is the entire premise of hot desking. “You stay there, I’ll head to Sally’s.”

What followed was half a day of adjusting Sally’s chair height, repositioning her screens, locating a docking station, tracking down a charger and reconfiguring everything so I could use three monitors instead of just my laptop. A laptop is excellent for a quick task, but when I really need to think, to move between documents, compare spreadsheets, respond to emails and still see what I’m doing, I need multiple large screens. I need operational real estate. I need to feel like I’m directing air traffic.

Which inevitably means Sally then spends the next half day restoring her desk to its natural habitat.

Productivity in theory. Mild mutual disruption in reality.

I also bring my own wireless keyboard and mouse, so when someone books that desk they’re missing two fairly crucial components of the experience. Add in the photos, the water bottles, the personalised mug and possibly yesterday’s coffee I forgot to throw out, and it subtly communicates “occupied” even when technically it isn’t.

The real strategy, however, is this: we can book desk two months in advance, so I book mine two months in advance.

Every week I extend it out another week, which means while we call it hot desking, what I am actually doing is maintaining a rolling permanent reservation. A quiet, highly organised long game.

Which is why I don’t think I hot desk at all. I cold desk.

Desk 10 is no longer a hot desk. It has evolved. It is a 'Cold Desk', stable, long-term, emotionally committed and quietly exclusive.

The term may not appear in any official policy document, but that feels like a minor administrative oversight rather than a flaw in the concept. It explains the dynamic. It respects the history and acknowledges the effort I have invested in screen angles and chair calibration.

There is a familiarity there now. A shared understanding. Desk 10 knows my preferred monitor height. I know exactly which drawer sticks. We have built something over time.

If the policy guardians ever noticed, I imagine they would attempt to gently reheat the situation and encourage a more flexible interpretation of shared workspace. They might speak of collaboration, fairness and the spirit of hot desking.

However, in this particular instance, the policy guardians would be… me - so, well... I'm not telling anyone! and this means Desk 10 and I will continue our understated, slightly rebellious partnership until the day I forget to extend the booking and walk in to find Sally already behind my screens. At that moment, Sally and I will lock eyes across the office floor, fully aware of what has happened, and silently agree in perfect unison: Not again and move back to our preferred spaces.

Desk 10 is not hot. It is calm, stable and consistently reserved.

Cold Desking might not be in the handbook yet, but give it time. This revolution starts with someone quietly booking a desk two months in advance and then..... who knows!