I once earned a box of Quality Street chocolates from the CEO for cleaning up my desk. The marketing team prided itself on being able to find anything required — from press releases to printouts of corporate decks to magazines — in the mountainous piles that reached the floor. Our department was an eyesore in the newly erected, modern cubicle setting of the corporate headquarters, and it seemed a small price to achieve its goal. At another company, many years later, I was deeply upset by their refusal to let me keep two cane-basket chairs (that I bought) in what was designated as ‘my’ terrace and which had access only from ‘my’ cabin. What was the point of saying it was ‘my’ space if they were going to object to my furniture?