9 Cake and the Open Plan Office

A Foodscape of Work Through a Lefebvrian Lens

Harriet Shortt

Appetizer: An Introduction to Food, Work, Space and Place

This chapter is about food and eating in the workplace. In fact, as I write I have opened a packet of biscuits and made a coffee and, perhaps, before you continue to read you might want to pause here, put the kettle on and open the biscuit tin.

It has been argued that eating is a necessary, mundane and routine activity (Sobal and Wonsink, 2007: 135) and this would indeed be a reasonable point of view if we considered food simply as a fuel with which to nourish our bodies—we need food and water to survive. Yet food can shape who we are, our lifestyle choices, our bodies, our identities (see Caplan, 1997; Abbots and Lavis, 2013; Dejmanee, 2016), and our eating behaviours can differ according to sexuality and gender (see Conner, Johnson, and Grogan, 2004; Nath, 2011). Food and eating is also an inherently social activity and is one that is bound up with social, religious, cultural and ritualistic traditions and symbols. The act of cooking and eating brings families and friends together, it unites us in our homes and in public spaces¹ and as Throsby (2012: 7) suggests, it is the very currency of sociality. From formal wedding feasts with symbolic wedding cakes (see Charsley, 1997) to the milieu of carnival street food, from ceremonial military mess dinners to mingling by the cake stand at the village fête, food brings people and communities together. In addition, and more broadly, food and drink are core to far wider social issues including globalization, agriculture and farming, political agendas and the environment. Over the past decade or so, researchers and journalists have examined the politics of food and raised key questions about the contents of our plates and kitchen cupboards (see Klein, 2002). And we only need look as far as recent reports in the media, such as Jamie Oliver tackling childhood obesity and sugar (both in the UK and the US), Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall confronting food waste in UK households and organizations, and the report from the Royal Society for Public Health discussing the impact of rush hour commuting on our health and wellbeing (2016), to conclude that food is far from mundane or routine and is very much a concern on the social menu.

Specifically, however, this chapter puts food on the workplace menu and explores the interconnectedness of food, work, people and space using Lefebvre’s spatial triad framework (1991) and considers how the social production of space and the micro-geographies of the workplace influence food consumption, social interactions and relationships at work. There is no doubt that food and eating in the workplace is a common occurrence for most of us; we might frequent a coffee shop on our way to work in search of the first caffeine fix of the day, we might take sandwiches from home to the office for lunch or take advantage of hot meals in our workplace canteens, and we might enjoy after work drinks and dinners with colleagues or clients. Food and drink are an integral part of daily working life but what this chapter seeks to do is raise questions about the nexus of food and space at work; in what ways does space influence where we eat, what we eat and with whom?; what is the role of food in our organizational environment and how does it impact everyday spatial practices?; how might formal and informal eating practices alter our lived experiences of space at work?

To investigate these sorts of questions, I combine Lefebvre’s spatial triad framework (perceived, conceived and lived space), and his discussions around dominated and appropriated spaces, dialectics and embodiment (1991; Shields, 1999) with insights from food studies in a range of disciplines including public health, geography, sociology, anthropology, and organization studies. This chapter begins with an overview of food and eating at work and considers the attention researchers have paid to food in factories and offices thus far. The subsequent discussion presents insights from foodscape studies to highlight the important connections that have already been made between food, people and space. Foodscape studies (see for example Mikkelsen, 2011; Swinburn et al., 1999; Brembeck and Johansson, 2010; Goodman, Maye, and Holloway, 2010) specifically explore the food environments that people, communities and societies are exposed to and offer frameworks that help us ‘analyse how food, places and people are interconnected and how they interact’ (Mikkelsen, 2011: 209). I then argue that it is only by overlaying Lefebvre’s spatial triad framework and analysis onto a foodscape of an organization that we gain a more complex, comprehensive, multifaceted understanding of food, people and work space.

The following section discusses the research setting on which this chapter is based and the methodological approach: a qualitative, interpretive three-month field study in a large Government agency in the UK that adopted participant-led photography and photo-elicitation interviews. The findings and discussion explore the formal and informal eating habits of employees, how and where food is shared, and how such eating/ spatial practices are manifestations of both power and resistance, and in turn, produce and transform space (Lefebvre, 1991: 343; Wapshott and Mallett, 2011: 68). Specifically, I argue that Lefebvre’s spatial triad provides an analytical tool with which we might enrich and further develop the foodscapes literature by highlighting how a) foodscapes are transformed by inhabitants and their eating practices, b) that foodscape boundaries are permeable and somewhat fluid, and c) that foodscapes are imbued with complex and ambiguous social, political and cultural meanings. As such, the contributions of this chapter are threefold: this Lefebvrian analysis of a foodscape specifically highlights the dialectical and contradictory nature of our social/ spatial encounters at work and thus draws out a wider understanding of the domination and appropriation of space; in using Lefebvre’s framework, this chapter strengthens the understanding that foodscapes are both physically and socio-culturally produced—it is both concrete, as well as lived and embodied; and it aims to contribute to foodscape studies in an organizational/institutional context and attend to the call for a more micro-level view of foodscapes (see Mikkelsen, 2011).

Starter: A Recipe for Food, Work and Space

Food and the Workplace

As noted above, food and eating have long been of interest to sociologists, anthropologists and those in cultural studies who, in this interdisciplinary field, have explored food from perspectives of production to consumption, from individual eating habits to family meals and ritualistic eating. Indeed, the social aspects of food and eating and how and why food connects us has drawn much attention from scholars and includes a wide variety of concerns; food and eating out (Beardsworth and Keel, 1997); eating on holiday (Williams, 1997); health and identity (Caplan, 1997); rituals and customs of eating and the social significance of the meal (Visser, 1991); diets and our bodies (Beardsworth and Keel, 1997; Abbots and Lavis, 2013); the ethics of food consumption (Johnston, Rodney, and Szabo, 2012; Cairns, Johnston, and MacKendrick, 2013); and food, social status and class (Elias, 1969; Douglas and Isherwood, 1979). What is common to many of these studies is the sociality of food and eating: food connects people, and what we eat and how we eat it highlights the complexities around communities, cultures and identities.

Yet despite this rich and complex field offering fruitful areas of research, the study of food and eating in organization studies is still rather neglected, with only around two dozen or so key studies over the past six decades contributing to our understanding of workplace eating. Those in organization studies who have sought to explore the cultural dimensions of food in the workplace have included studies of workplace canteens (Cook and Wyndham, 1953; Poulsen and Jørgensen, 2011), food orientated workplace rituals (Roy, 1959; Domenico and Phillips, 2009; Plester, 2015; Kiffin et al., 2015) which has included breakfast meetings and office Christmas parties (Rosen, 1985, 1988) and business dinners (Sturdy, Schwarz, and Spicer, 2006), and the aesthetic appearance of restaurants and bars and the influence on emotions and behaviour (Wasserman, Rafaeli, and Kluger, 2000). A variety of studies surrounding food and drink at work can also be found in the Human Relations special issue ‘Food, Work and Organization’ edited by Briner and Sturdy (2008), where authors discuss food, self and embodiment at work (Driver, 2008), and eating with the Mafia (Parker, 2008). More recently, food has been understood as a social construction of memory and connections made between food, work, and nostalgia in Strangleman’s article on the former Guinness brewery at Park Royal, London (2010). And Kniffin et al. explore the organizational benefits and improvement in work-group performance when teams eat together (2015). Of course, we might consider other studies in the wider field of business and management research that have also contributed to an awareness of food in organizations; Underhill’s studies of sensory marketing and retailer and consumer behaviour and the influence of food smells and food courts on shopping habits (2000, 2004; see also Blythman, 2004), and the role of food and eating in servicescapes and the design of food retail outlets (see Bitner, 1992; Ritzer, 1993).

Albeit a relatively small field of research there are perhaps some useful commonalities between some of these studies that should be drawn out here. Indeed, most worthy of note in the context of this chapter are the hints and traces of links being made between food, eating and space. For example, Sturdy et al.’s paper (2006) ‘Guess who’s coming to dinner?’ discusses the liminal space of the restaurant in the working relationships between organizations and management consultants, suggesting that liminal spaces allow for different, often more creative, open conversations between colleagues. Although not the key focus for other studies, organizational spaces appear to provide important field study locations for some researchers: workplace canteens, formal dining halls, the firehouse, and factory floors. Space, it seems, has some social, cultural and historical significance in these studies but for the most part it is side-stepped in favour of alternative theoretical investigations. These explorations do not, therefore, sufficiently or explicitly consider the relationship between food and space. For more comprehensive links between these concepts, we must turn to other disciplines and perhaps a good place to start might be the study of ‘foodscapes’.

Food, People and Space

A core literature that specifically focuses on the relationships between food, space and people and how they interact, are ‘foodscape studies’. At the heart of what have become known as ‘foodscape studies’ are key questions around eating practices, where food and drink are consumed, how we encounter food in our built environments, and the notion that the design of the built environment influences people and their eating behaviours. Much of the foodscape literature is based on concerns for public health and often discusses, for example, the location and physical placement of fast food outlets in busy shopping centres, and how this contributes to rising levels of obesity in western society (see Brembeck and Johansson, 2010; Goodman, Maye, and Holloway, 2010). Indeed, for the most part this literature focuses on macro-level issues surrounding food and health, urban design and wider national and international communities.

However, Mikkelsen’s (2011) paper on foodscape studies and ‘out-of-home’ eating neatly highlights the significance of food in other spaces such as schools and, most relevantly here, institutions, and presents a typology of foodscapes where a more micro-level of analysis is considered. In collaboration with the Royal Society for Public Health, Mikkelsen’s paper focuses on how these foodscapes impact on our health and wellbeing and argues for future research to include the analysis of the institutional foodscape, which he defines as, ‘the physical, organizational and sociocultural space in which clients/ guests encounter meals, food and food-related issues, including health messages’ (2011: 215). Certainly, this call is acknowledged in a report by the Royal Society for Public Health, where food and the eating habits of workers during their rush hour commute is examined in some detail. Key findings highlight that commuting increases the likelihood of snacking, consuming fast food and less time spent preparing healthy meals (2016: 8). The report calls for ‘greater restrictions on unhealthy food and drink outlets in stations’ (2016: 12) to tackle the increasingly unhealthy ‘foodscapes’ at many train stations, through which millions of UK workers pass each day.

Broadly, then, the foodscape literature is useful in the context of this chapter because it raises the important connections we should be making between our physical environment and how it impacts what we eat and when. Certainly, it is worth considering how foodscape studies might have applications in organization studies and, as Mikkelsen (2011) suggests, how we might pay more attention to the micro level foodscapes within our institutions. Indeed, this would be a useful framework with which to assess the eating behaviours of the workforce. However, there are currently several gaps in this literature and opportunities for further research to give strength to this emerging discipline. Given that we know that food and eating is not just a health concern and is one inextricably linked to socio-cultural concerns, it would be appropriate to seek further frameworks to inform the analysis of a socially produced institutional foodscape. Indeed, much of the foodscape studies literature appears focussed on how the food environment shapes people and their behaviour, and seems to give little detailed attention to the notion that people and their behaviour shape the food environment. There is a sense in the literature that people are somewhat passively ‘managed’ and influenced by their foodscape rather than playing an active role in what might be considered a more dynamic, dialectic and complex relationship between food, people and place. Indeed, what seems lacking in some of these studies is the exploration of the ‘unmanaged’, informal and subjective lived experiences of food in the spaces and places we inhabit.

Therefore, to shed further light on such complexities, I propose Lefebvre’s theoretical conceptualizations of space—that which is socially produced and socially producing (1991). Specifically, I propose Lefebvre’s spatial triad as an analytical tool that will help inform and deepen our understanding of an institutional foodscape. Lefebvre’s spatial triad (1991) is a valuable theoretical framework that provides us with a critical understanding of space and acknowledges that it is both physical and material as well as imaginary and social. Lefebvre offers three useful perspectives on space: perceived space (or spatial practice)—the daily routines, habits and physical movements we engage in. In this chapter, a useful example might be the mid-morning walk we take across the office to make a cup of coffee and how we habitually know where and when to negotiate desks and stairs along the way; conceived space (or representations of space)—the space ‘as planned and executed by planners, designers, architects’ (Dale and Burrell, 2008: 9) that is ultimately connected to the manipulation of space to control and organize. An example in this case might be the deliberate design of a canteen-style restaurant in the workplace (by architects and managers) to manipulate employee behaviour and promote a collaborative culture; and finally, lived space (or representational spaces)—the subjective experience of space that ‘gives it life, animation, and makes it occupied’ (Taylor and Spicer, 2007: 333). An example here might be an office worker using her own coffee mug from home because she feels it represents something about her identity, rather than using the company branded coffee mugs made available by the organization.

Importantly, Dale and Burrell remind us that the three elements of this triad are somewhat conflicting and overlap and that Lefebvre himself ‘recognises that there are contradictions within and between these elements of social space’ (2008: 10). Lefebvre’s work reveals the ‘dialectical relationship that exists within the triad of the perceived, the conceived and the lived’ (1991: 39) and thus helps to further draw out the tensions, for example, between power and control that is established through and with space on the one hand (dominated space), and the adaptation of space on the other hand (appropriated space).

Thus, if we embrace Mikkelsen’s definition of an institutional foodscape as the ‘physical, organizational and sociocultural space in which clients/guests encounter meals, food and food-related issues, including health messages’ (2011: 215), whilst acknowledging that despite recognizing foodscapes as physical and social sites, the foodscapes literature could do more to explore the meaningful ways these perspectives inform each other, we should look to Lefebvre’s framework in order to develop an understanding of foodscapes as a ‘dynamic social construction that relates food to specific places, people and meanings’ (Johnston and Bauman, 2010: 3). The marriage of both foodscape studies and a Lefebvrian lens offers us a sound set of conceptual tools for understanding the social/spatial encounters we have with food and exploring the contested terrain of spatial practices of eating at work.

Amuse Bouche: Field Study and Research Method

The data presented in this chapter are drawn from a wider three-month study that explored the newly built offices of a large Government organization’s headquarters in the UK (for the sake of this study, I will refer to the name of the agency as Davenupe). Specifically, this interpretive, qualitative study focussed on an in-depth, post-occupancy examination (18 months after re-location) of how workers felt about their new building, their subjective experiences of the space, and how they felt the new space had impacted on their everyday work practices, wellbeing, and interactions.

Re-locating to this new building was particularly significant for this organization since workers had previously been in many separate offices and employees had worked in discrete, single offices in dated buildings with limited facilities. The new office represented a large cultural shift for the organization with new working practices including hot-desking, open-plan office spaces, and bookable break-out meeting rooms. Due to the dramatic changes to working life associated with re-locating, the organization began a new build campaign two and a half years before the move, and worked with teams across the organization to promote the up-coming benefits to employees. These included more flexible working opportunities, being better placed to work with the local community, and the ability to all work under one roof. Davenupe’s building now consists of a light-filled atrium with a central staircase reaching up four levels to large roof lights complete with solar panels and a roof terrace provides wide-reaching views over the city skyline.

Within this study, the sample included 18 employees in total, both male and female, aged between 25 and 55 years old and incorporated junior managers, senior managers and administrative staff across a variety of functions within the organization. An important part of this study was the use of visual methods—namely participant-led photography (Warren, 2002, 2005; Shortt and Warren, 2012; Shortt, 2015), and was chosen since it aligned with the ontological and epistemological foundations of the wider study; the concern being with the participant’s subjectivity and individual experience of work space (Ray and Smith, 2012). Each participant was given a disposable camera (although some chose to use their own digital camera-phones) and asked to capture six to eight images of spaces that they felt were important to them at work and spaces that were meaningful in relation to their everyday work practices and sense of wellbeing. The participants had three working days in which to capture their photographs. After the photographs had been taken, developed and printed (or in the case of those who had captured images on their camera-phones, emailed and printed) photo-elicitation interviews were arranged and conducted. These interviews comprised one-to-one, face-to-face, interactions with each participant, where their images were discussed and conversations recorded (Collier and Collier, 1986; van Leeuwen and Jewitt, 2001; Harper, 2002). The ethics and confidentiality of this study were addressed using participant consent forms for the use of quotes and images for research purposes and with the agreement that pseudonyms would be used both with regards to the name of the organization and the names of participants involved.

These data were then subject to qualitative analysis from which key themes were established. Specifically, the analytical process started within the interview setting; participants ascribed meanings to their photographs and talked about why they had captured these images. Transcripts from each interview were then produced and initial memos were recorded as part of the preliminary reading of these texts (Saldaña, 2012). Codes were grounded in the data to preserve the inductive participant-centred character of the research. This coding process finally led to the development of key themes (for more on visual analysis see van Leeuwen and Jewitt, 2001; Pink, 2007). As noted above, this field-study set out to explore staff experiences of the new building and examine how the new open-plan, shared offices impacted on daily working practices and wellbeing. However, it was only after participants had taken their photographs, and photo-elicitation interviews and analysis had taken place, that themes around food and eating at work emerged as particularly significant.

Main—the Contested Terrain of Spatial Practices of Eating at Work

The staff at Davenupe took an array of photographs that were connected to food, drink and eating in the office. They took photographs of food in the canteen, homemade cakes on desks, tins of biscuits on locker tops, and where they made tea and coffee. They talked to me about what meanings these held and why they were important in their everyday working lives. What is particularly evident in the images and the subsequent discussions are that food is experienced and encountered in a multitude of ways across the organizational terrain. The consumption of food in this office highlights tensions that exist between the planned and designed spaces for eating (Lefebvre’s notion of conceived space), and the workers’ routines and experiences of eating elsewhere (perceived and lived space). The foodscape of this office is both physically produced but importantly socially produced through the lived experiences of workers, their symbolic associations with food, where it is consumed and with whom it is eaten. Indeed, food encounters meant one thing in the canteen, another at one’s desk, and yet another standing at a colleague’s locker. The following analysis and discussion draws on the findings from the field study and reveals how a) foodscapes are transformed by inhabitants and their eating practices, b) that foodscape boundaries are permeable and somewhat fluid, and c) that foodscapes are imbued with social, political and cultural meanings. Most significantly, this analysis reveals a previously underexplored context in which we are able to witness the very contradictions of organizational space; from the ‘forces that aspire to dominate and control space … [to] the forces that seek to appropriate space’ (Lefebvre, 1991: 392). I present this discussion under four themes; table talk; private dining; can you smell what’s cooking?; health and well-being.

Table Talk

Conversations with the agency workers uncovered the importance of being able to talk over food; being able to converse over a meal or a snack was part of everyday life in the office and a fundamental factor in bringing people together. This is perhaps unsurprising since we already know that food is the currency of sociality and collaboration (Throsby, 2012; Kiffin et al., 2015) and that eating and drinking together at work contributes to personal and social well-being (Stroebaek, 2013). Yet these conversations varied according to the type of food or drink that was being consumed and most significantly here, the space in which it was consumed.

Formal, designated spaces for eating and drinking, such as the canteen and tea stations, proved to be popular with many workers. Eating lunch in the canteen with groups of friends became a daily ritual for some and provided an opportunity to talk about personal lives, gossip, and a time and space to share hobbies and interests—‘cake … creates … a time and space away from “work”’ (Valentine, 2002: 6):

The tea stations, designed by the architects and planners to provide a space in which workers could meet whilst making a hot drink, were identified by many as ‘nice chatting areas’;

Figure 9.1 

Picture taken by participant, Yvonne.

Figure 9.2

Picture taken by participant, Kerry.

Just as Stroebaek (2013) discusses in her paper on coffee and coping communities, the tea stations in this office provide a space to make a drink, share a few words with colleagues and allow for chance meetings with others. However, due to their central location in the open-plan office, conversations here appear to be somewhat brief and inhibited by the visible and audible nature of the space. Participants noted that these drinking spaces were suitable neither for private nor for work-related discussions.

It is the sharing of food at desks and on locker tops in walkways and corridors across the office space that was most prevalent during the interviews. During these discussions, employees reflected on their new open-plan, hot-desking environment and discussed how they felt this new workplace design impacted rather negatively on teams and working practices;

However, it is the ability to share food across the office space that most employees identified as key to bringing people back together and reconnecting conversations;

It is worth reflecting here on the notion that, as Hatch (1990) suggests, open-plan offices are often designed with collaboration, togetherness and teamwork in mind and as Lefebvre (1991) would argue, such planned spaces are manifestations of power and control, attempting to ensure workers engage and interact. Yet here we see the word ‘isolating’ being used to describe how this new open-plan space is experienced by its users. It is somewhat ironic that workers feel isolated with ‘… too many other people around’.

Figure 9.3 

Picture taken by participant, Lauren.

Taking a Lefebvrian perspective here highlights the contradictory nature of social space—that on the one hand the logical, rational design of such a space allows for inclusion and connection with others, yet on the other hand, those situated within it experience a sense of exclusion due to its proximity to others (1991: 294). Indeed, it could be argued further that although open plan, flexible work spaces might be considered ‘neutral spaces’ which are open to all, they are far from devoid of the ‘subdivisions of space’ (1991: 294) that create pockets of power for some and create vacuums of isolation for others. It is worthy of note here that several women who work flexible hours in the organization identify the new hot-desking arrangements in the office as somewhat exclusionary. An example of what Wasserman and Frenkel (2015) discuss as the role of space in the doing of gender in the workplace, these women described themselves as ‘nomads’, ‘wandering around the office to find a desk’ because they have come in ‘late’ after the school run. There are insights here into the female bodily practice of searching for a hot-desk in an open-plan office and how this might affect women and their ‘gender work’ in organizations (Wasserman and Frenkel, 2015: 1487). The very use of the word ‘nomad’ is telling given its connection to migration and having no fixed sense of place or belonging.

Thus, it seems it is the combination of both open-plan space with food that produces a collaborative working environment for these workers. Indeed, one participant described the placement of food on locker tops as how people ‘display their wares and encourage people to talk more’ and how this ‘encourages passers-by to stop, talk a bit of shop, eat and move on’.

Figure 9.4 

Picture taken by participant, Eve.

This workplace sharing of food is not simply the currency of sociality as Throsby (2012) has noted, but for these workers it is the currency of team relations and the edible facilitator of their office networking and work collaborations, just as Kiffin et al. (2015) suggest in their research on the enhanced team performance of firefighters who eat together.

This also mirrors Di Domenico and Phillips’s (2009) discussion around Oxbridge dining rituals where they find such eating behaviours in formal halls assist in politicking, relationship-building and information exchange. Yet of course, here we see workers’ spatial practices and eating practices around the open-plan office as far more informal and somewhat ad-hoc. It seems it is the combination of open-plan offices (and thus, visibility), food ‘displayed’ in unprescribed ways, and the informal wandering of the office that truly creates a collaborative working environment in this case.

Furthermore, although Di Domenico and Phillips highlight the importance of relationship-building, their study draws out the hierarchical, inclusion and exclusion in formal dining practices, whereas here, we might liken spatial and eating practices to more informal ‘reception drinks’ or the chance encounter at a cocktail party. Visser notes that in social eating and drinking contexts ‘dining-room furniture limits numbers, prevents mobility, and promotes unwanted intimacy …’ (1991: 344) but reception drinks allow people to ‘stand and move about’ and ‘break away from a talking group’ and it is these sorts of practices we witness in this office.

More broadly, the lived experience of this space is quite different from the planned space (Lefebvre, 1991; De Certeau, 1984), and regardless of the organization’s formal rules discouraging employees to eat at desks and in the office space (all eating, they suggest, should be done in the canteen or at tea stations), these workers are subverting such regulations ‘in ‘deviant’ ways’ (Taylor and Spicer, 2007: 331). As Lefebvre reminds us, ‘human beings situate themselves in space as active participants’ (1991: 294) and it is the users that produce and transform space. So, our understanding of power here is served only when we consider its opposite concept, appropriation and resistance and as Lefebvre notes, the appropriation of space produces new spaces that temporarily suspend domination (1991: 167–168). Workers resist the intended use of office spaces and the expectations of planners and architects regarding where they eat—for workers their locker tops are not for storing folders or for organizational ephemera, they are for food displays and the presentation of edible symbols of collegiality and conversation.

Through our Lefebvrian lens, then, we see the social construction of eating practices in this open-plan space affording workers the opportunities to both approach and escape conversations and the informal, casual nature of eating on the move, as they transition through and around the office talking and eating. This clearly provides vital moments for making contact with others without some of the social and political rules of more dominant ‘structured’ canteen dining settings. In addition, through this analysis we can observe the dialectics of space that emerge from these practices (Shields, 1999). Lefebvre suggests that space embodies its own contradictions (1991: 129) where complex inconsistencies arise and so might be the case in this context. Simultaneously, we see how management re-appropriate the sociality around food, with controls ‘from above’ regarding expectations that workers socialize in the canteen, and yet ‘from below’ we see eating practices as part of informal interactions in liminal spaces (see Turner, 1982; Shortt, 2015). Indeed, the dialectical nature of space, food and the workplace continues in the following theme, where workers discuss dining alone.

Private Dining

Despite all the talk of talk, social interactions and connecting over cake, paradoxically, workers also identified the inability to eat alone as somewhat problematic in their everyday working lives. The very sociality of eating posed privacy issues for some and the new open-plan, hot-desking environment presented particular challenges in this regard.

Some identified the canteen as a space where the ‘pressure to talk’ was often unwelcome. As highlighted above, the canteen has been designed and is used by many as social space where bench seating and long tables promote conversation and create a setting where meals can be eaten together. Yet, for example, Bob talked about wanting to ‘just go and sit, eat my lunch and get back to work’ and appeared frustrated that there was no opportunity, or rather no space in which he might dine alone. The spatial and therefore social expectations in the canteen were such that talking over lunch was almost seen as a prerequisite; as we saw above, another example of Lefebvre’s conceived space ‘that attempts to control, to dominate, the spatial practices’ (Wapshott and Mallett, 2011: 68) of workers. Indeed, a number of workers deliberately choose to eat lunch at alternative times to avoid eating with others:

Consequently, it seems, alternative spaces for private dining were frequently sought out. Almost half the participants I spoke to took photographs outside the office, at various locations in the nearby city centre that captured where they liked to eat, including cafes, parks, and benches by the river (see Figure 9.5):

Figure 9.5

Picture taken by participant, Graham.

Others talked about finding alternative meeting and eating spots in cafes so they could ‘talk about sensitive materials’ over lunch or ‘have a bit of a gossip’ As we heard from Dana previously, the tea stations offer a nice chatting area, but ‘you’ve got to be careful because obviously now we are open plan, everyone near that area can hear what you’re saying!’ Thus, it seems only certain sorts of conversations can be had over food in the office and if privacy is required, alternative eating spots are pursued. Perhaps one of the most poignant examples of this was Martin’s story of finding a private place for a cup of coffee;

Given these stories of eating and drinking outside the office space we might argue that this organizational foodscape is not one that is fixed to formal or ‘typical’ encounters with food, it is one with permeable boundaries and is negotiated and renegotiated by its users’ everyday spatial and eating practices. Thus, with the help of Lefebvre’s perceived and lived perspectives on space we can widen our understanding of foodscape boundaries in the workplace. Understanding better the lived experience of food in the office and the ‘unmanaged’ informal subjective experiences of workers’ eating and drinking habits has shifted the boundaries to include far more than simply the office building itself. These office workers cite the social aspects of eating together in the canteen as problematic when seeking privacy and thus the city and the built environment around the workplace becomes part of their foodscape. As such, we should perhaps not be limited in our thinking when considering the micro-geographies of organizational foodscapes (Sobal and Wonsink, 2007) and instead appreciate that the boundaries encompass other environments as well.

Furthermore, it seems the foodscape of this workplace and its ‘influences on our food behaviour’ (Mikkelsen, 2011: 210) is centred around the social aspects of eating—be it formally or informally—and does not consider the need for people to find solace when eating, nor does it consider the rather more contemplative, reflective setting that eating alone can offer. Indeed, there seems to be growing consensus that we live and work in increasingly transparent workplaces where walls and privacy have given way to surveillance, display and the disciplinary gaze (Foucault, 1991) and as such, workers here find alternative routes to private spaces in which to eat and drink alone. There appears to be little in the food literature that discusses dining alone and of course our Western sociocultural norms still suggest eating alone is rather unusual (see Burkeman, 2015).

Lefebvre’s thoughts on the dialectics of space (Shields, 1999) can extend this analysis further. There are perhaps several examples in this case; firstly we see how the pressures of work, technology and organizational expectations of instant communication might encourage workers to stay at their desks through a lunch break, as Altman and Baruch note, we might ‘grab(s) a sandwich, consuming it alone at [our] workstation while keeping up … high-paced work’ (2010: 130), yet at the same time, the organization might prohibit such food-based activities at workstations based on the argument workers’ must take appropriate breaks; secondly, to eat alone is considered unusual (certainly given the discourse in much of the sociological and anthropological research on the sociality of eating), yet spaces for eating alone are actively sought out by workers in this organization for moments of solace and reflection; and finally, Lefebvre’s acknowledgement of space being both exclusionary at the same time as inclusionary (1991: 294) is also evident in that we might consider this canteen space as one that both excludes those who wish to be alone, and includes those who wish to socialize. The workers’ attempts to seek alternative private eating spaces demonstrates Lefebvre’s argument that space creates conflict between different groups and although organizations wish to create cultures of collaboration, workers will always attempt to ‘transcend political institutions’ (1991: 392).

In addition, although the focus of this study is not a gendered one, we might reflect on the nature of eating alone and further reasons as to why food might be consumed privately since there are echoes here of Wasserman and Frenkel’s findings where women feel uncomfortable eating in public spaces (2015: 1499). It may not just be a sense of solace and quiet that workers seek, it may indeed be linked to the wish to conceal food choices from the gaze of others; when talking about eating chocolate where she can be seen, a participant in Wasserman and Frenkel’s study notes ‘it’s especially problematic at my status, because it might be interpreted as a lack of self-control’ (2015: 1499). Certainly, links can be made here to the recent rather disturbing social ‘trend’ of ‘food-shaming’; the act of judging someone else’s food choices and ‘shaming’ them into feeling guilty about those choices (see for example, Bates, 2014). Indeed, the Metro recently ran an article in June 2017 titled ‘Stop Food-Shaming in the Office’ in which they discuss co-workers observing each other’s food choices and openly negatively commenting on them and the impact of such commentary on body image issues and eating practices (Lindsay, 2017).

More broadly, then, this raises important questions about the design of contemporary workplaces that embrace open-plan, collaborative working and the foodscapes within them—if foodscapes are inherently social spaces and food encounters are always with others, are we marginalizing and excluding those who wish to eat without conversation, or indeed, observation? We might consider how and when we make space to reflect on our work or indeed just take ten minutes out of our day, and what role food and drink plays in these activities. If food and drink are associated with taking a break, yet these moments are constructed and mediated as social interactions with the accompanying social norms of chit-chat and discussion, arguably, are these ‘breaks’ at all? And in what ways does food consumption in public, private or liminal spaces shape and influence the construction of the gendered body at work?

Can You Smell What’s Cooking?

Food smells were also discussed as part the workers’ everyday experience of food in the office. Working in an open-plan office such as this means the smell of food can easily permeate the air and creep across desks and between floors and unlike the sweet smells of baking bread that are deliberately wafted through supermarkets by sensory marketers (Underhill, 2000; Hultén, 2009), these food smells were not always welcome:

Indeed, these olfactory accounts are somewhat reminiscent of the findings in Warren and Riach’s (2017) exploration of smell in the workplace, the ‘sensory signifiers’ that permeate one’s surroundings, and the complexities associated with wanted and unwanted food smells (Visser, 1991). Furthermore, workers discussed the auditory routines of the office and noted that ‘you know when it’s lunchtime because the bloody noise from the canteen comes right up through the middle of the building’ and ‘there’s a real hubbub downstairs when it’s lunchtime and people are queuing to get into the canteen … it can be quite off putting if you’re still at your desk working’.

These are examples of how food encounters at work are embodied experiences (Plester, 2015; Flores-Pereira, Davel, and Cavedon, 2008; Driver, 2008; Valentine, 2002). Lefebvre draws on embodiment in his understandings of space and emphasizes links between the corporeal and the social, particularly with regards to both lived space and perceived space. Dale and Burrell usefully discuss Lefebvre’s perspectives noting ‘how the materiality of the world influences and shapes us as irreducibly embodied and spatial social beings’ (2008: 217). Yet it seems our lived, embodied experiences of space are often discussed in relation to the material, or notably here, food as object—Plester (2015) discusses eating food as ‘ingesting the organisation’ and Valentine (2002) uses actor network theory to explore eating practices and food as ‘things’ consumed by and unified with employee bodies. Here however, it is smell that is ingested and incorporated into the employee body. What is significant here is that these workers cannot shut the sensory door on the smell (or noise) of food and food preparation, given the design and spatial layout of the building. To some degree, the very air in the office becomes part of how food is encountered and much like the sharing of food on locker tops or the seeking of external private dining spaces, these sensory phenomena disrupt the formal, planned foodscape of the workplace. This careful examination of space, as Lefebvre reminds us, must ‘not only be with the eyes … but also with all the senses, with the total body’ (1991: 391).

Arguably we might also consider how smells construct and reconstruct our lived experiences of space. We might have different sorts of embodied, lived experiences of space when we start to pick apart the sensory elements of workers’ lives. If we mapped the physical, material lived space against a map of the smells of lived space, we might get two very different pictures (Riach and Warren, 2015); on the one hand, our bodies dictate how we experience space, we move around and see things—we have heard how workers sit in the canteen, stand at tea stations and wander the office space—but on the other hand, the smells (and sounds) we experience do not respect those boundaries that we create—smells are unrestrained and here we have heard how the smell politics (Warren and Riach, 2017) of the office, including having a smelly lunch, can influence the cultural and social practices of workers.

Lefebvre’s suggestion that space embodies both inclusion and exclusion can be reflected upon again here; his discussion argues that some spaces are prohibited and other spaces, for some, are accessible (1991: 294), yet this is predominantly based on material space, a dwelling or a vicinity. In the context of smell, as an aspect of the embodied experience of space, it is more complex to consider how smells influence and control such lived experiences (Warren and Riach, 2017) and how, without physical boundaries we might experience a different sense of inclusion or exclusion. Lauren tells us, ‘Yeah, you have to be careful what you bring in to put in the microwave—you can end up stinking the whole place out!’—on the one hand, her material experience of space and food consumption could be seen as accessible or encouraged (able to bring food from home, use the office microwaves and so on), yet, on the other, with regards to the smelliness of her food, her experience is redefined as unacceptable or perhaps an unwanted, unwelcome ‘inclusion’ to the office space. We can see this as an ‘unequal struggle’ (Lefebvre, 1991: 391) whereby the examination of space, through and with all the senses (or at least the eyes and nose), becomes distorted and the conflicts between groups shifts ‘homogenized space to their own purposes’ (p. 391), desires, judgements and impressions.

In addition, this analysis might also help us delve deeper into the socio-cultural nature and makeup of institutional foodscapes. How and where we encounter food is so far in the foodscapes literature dominated by the physical, material and visual encounters with food and food-related messages. In future research, both conceptually and methodologically, it would be pertinent to acknowledge and consider the rather more sensory aspects to our encounters with food and think more about how we might problematize embodiment, space and food at work.

Health and Wellbeing

Finally, an important part of the new building for most of the participants was the canteen and the provision of healthy snacks and food. In stark contrast to many of the participants’ previous workplaces, where no canteen space was provided and only small kitchenette style facilities were available, Davenupe’s new canteen space had been designed with social interaction in mind, but importantly with the health of employees;

Figure 9.6

Picture taken by participant, Rana.

From many workers, there was a positive response to the type of food served in the canteen. Some of the participants in this study cycle to work and took pictures of the food in the canteen as well as photos of the new showers and cycle storage spaces provided, and noted that they felt together these elements of their new workspace were a positive message from the organization, that they ‘care about our health and how active we are being … they are promoting a healthy workforce’. Indeed, others reflected on the paradoxical experience of eating cake and sweets at their desks;

There is a sense here that health is on the workplace agenda, be it through the organization’s efforts in the canteen, through to the recognition that cakes and sweet treats across the rest of the office might not always fit with a wider sense of well-being. Such findings highlight the tensions between the organization’s wish to impose a healthy, ethical foodscape (Mikkelsen, 2011) and to some extent control the health of the workforce, and the appropriation of space and the food within it by workers.

This further reiterates Lefebvre’s notions of dialectics and embodiment. There is evidence to suggest the management and control of employee bodies through the promotion of workplace health (Thanem, 2009), where the organization can be seen to construct, limit and reappropriate food and what, where and how it is placed in the canteen space. Juxtaposed to and somewhat at odds with this is the ‘bottom up’ reappropriation of food at desks and on lockers through employees’ sharing of sweet treats and cakes in the liminal spaces of the office. The boundaries between the management of the ‘healthy’ employee body and what might be defined by Thanem as bodily resistance practices on the part of employees (2009) are blurred. Indeed, it could be argued there is a sense of oscillation between how space is practiced in the office and the food encounters that are negotiated there; for example, as Rana suggests above, she can start the day ‘in the right way’ with healthy snacks provided by the organization, but once situated within the office space the socio-cultural aspects of eating create quite a different set of ‘unhealthy’ but seemingly vital food encounters with colleagues.

Dessert: Conclusions and Future Considerations

This research argues that the social production of space influences the consumption of food and the consumption of food influences the social production of space. As such, we have seen that where we eat, what we eat and with whom we eat is an embodied and conflicting experience that is both planned and controlled, resisted, lived and practiced—it is Lefebvre’s spatial framework and his conceptualization of social space that has drawn attention to what is described here as the contested terrain of spatial practices of eating at work.

These findings highlight the complex and multifaceted nature of an organizational foodscape. If we define a foodscape as the actual sites where people find food (Freidberg, 2010) and understand foodscapes as the study of how and where people encounter and interact with food, this study sheds light on the many and varied sites of food consumption in the everyday lives of office workers. However, by drawing on Lefebvre’s work we can make better sense of these complexities and in doing so, further our knowledge of food encounters in an organizational environment and extend our socio-cultural understanding of foodscapes more broadly.

Significantly though, it is through this Lefebvrian analysis of food and eating practices in an open-plan office that we have seen how the contradictions of space dissolve what ‘on the surface appears homogeneous and coherent’ (Lefebvre, 1991: 352). In using Lefebvre’s triad, (perceived, conceived, and lived), the dialectics of this office space have been foregrounded and the discussions around the sharing of food, eating alone, the sensory nature of food, and healthy eating practices have all served to demonstrate the subdivisions that exist within this space. Lefebvre’s work enables us to not only recognize the dominant ways in which our organizations manipulate and control space (and our food encounters and what we eat and where we eat it), but throws new light on the appropriation of space in the office, re-defined by workers as, for example, informal eating locations and spaces for informal munching and chatting. Lefebvre’s perspectives on space highlight how foodscapes are not passively experienced or stood before like a ‘picture … or a mirror’ (1991: 294), but are constructed and engineered by those living and practicing the spaces in which they eat, and are shaped by and embedded within social, political, embodied, cultural and contradictory meanings. The meanings of food and eating at work here have enriched our understanding of the ambiguous nature of space, particularly in relation to an open-plan, hot-desking environment. We have seen how space includes and excludes, how it is controlled and at the same time resisted, how we continually see, hear (and smell) the ‘unequal struggle, sometimes furious, sometimes more low-key, [that] takes place between the Logos and the Anti-Logos’ (Lefebvre, 1991: 391).

Furthermore, this analysis of food unearths some important considerations for those exploring new, open-plan spaces and the process of working in those spaces. For example, food in an open-plan office shapes and re-shapes (informal) communications and interactions and, as the dialectics of space show here, this redraws the hierarchical lines inside the workplace. These shifting boundaries of interaction and territory are not just office politics at play, they are the politics of cake and space, and as Lefebvre might argue, open-plan offices, with their all-embracing, collaborative, (theoretically) ‘unrestricted’ ethos are indeed far from such spaces—neutral, they are not.

Organizational spatial theorists might reflect further on making comparisons between (informal) interactions in spaces with and without food—such as toilets, the lifts and at the printer—or office versus non-office spaces and food related dynamics at pubs or restaurants as part of after-work socializing or client entertainment. In comparing such spaces in this way, we might further understand broader politics at play in organizations, surrounding gender, ethnicity or cultural diversity and where the difference in public/ private eating practices may be examined in more depth. In this study we have seen how the lack of space in which workers can eat privately, and the demands made on workers to avoid eating food that emits strong odours, limits and prohibits eating practices and potentially the loss of personal, social, and cultural identities. We might reflect on how certain eating and drinking practices at work therefore undermines the needs of some workers or marginalizes and excludes their food choices and behaviour.

In addition, we have seen how cake culture in an open-plan office has prompted more informal eating practices, such as eating in public spaces and transitory spaces, like corridors and walkways. It may be pertinent to consider how the boundaries and attitudes around food practices are changing in today’s working world and how our social rituals and embodiment of social identities are shifting. In the future, we might thus consider the eating practices of workers on the move or flexible workers without desks or offices—eating practices in cars, trains or in doorways and fire exits.

Finally, we might consider the wider implications of this research and what these findings might mean for organizations in the future. For example, in the current climate of health and well-being programmes and the drive for a healthy workforce, organizations might wish to take heed of the complex meanings of food across the landscape of work before implementing such programmes. Growing levels of obesity and dental problems (see Thanem, 2009; Gallagher, 2016), wider concerns about obesogenicity (see Glanz et al., 2005), and with the growing ‘cake culture’, reported by the Royal College of Surgeons, are all seen as dangers to our health and our waistlines. Other discourses around health and eating at work promote messages that food should only be consumed in designated eating spaces, and not at one’s desk. This comes from a health and safety perspective where workers are encouraged to take ‘proper breaks’ (Shaw, 2016), as well as organizations who demand a clean and tidy office, with clear rules ‘not to eat at your desk’ or ‘not to eat food that emits strong odours’ (Calligeros, 2011). If organizations are serious about understanding the eating habits of their employees, they should understand that food matters at work, but not just in the canteen and not just in relation to health. Food plays a vital social, cultural and political role in office life and organizations should be considerate of the relationships and interactions that are centred on food.

It is with these reflections in mind that I end this chapter and ponder over the future of food in the workplace, over a coffee and an after-dinner mint.