Dhe FAZ recently moved. We have left the government-like brick building and are now sitting in a sophisticated high-rise, between concrete and glass. The enthusiasm is only dampened by the fact that office plants are banned for the time being. However, the ficus and I don’t blame the employer: rumor has it that colleagues in the old building have transformed their offices into jungle-like biotopes. A few fanatics overdo it and spoil it for everyone, that’s the way it always goes.
I can imagine their objections: Plants improve the working atmosphere! Psychologists from the University of Cardiff want to have found out in “field tests” in open-plan offices that office plants even increase productivity. The Federal Institute for Occupational Safety and Health, BAuA, claims in a brochure that a green workplace would reduce illness-related absences by 3.5 days a year and fatigue by a surprisingly precise “30 percent”. The question is whether this will convince an employer when a large part of the time gained is spent watering, fertilizing and repotting by the employees who are a third more alert. It is well known that many plants also take a lot of work.
Eine Efeutute (Golden Epipremnum)
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Bild: Picture Alliance
The myth that houseplants improve air quality has been dispelled several times at this point: Although they capture volatile pollutants, in order to replace ventilation, you would have to set up at least ten plants per square meter. Perhaps the jungle colleagues had exactly these findings in mind. The presumed main argument against the thicket in the open-plan office is probably the risk of mould. An exception to the ban on plants could be made for ivy. As an Egyptian study showed Epipremnum aureum the number of mold spores floating in the air we breathe. But the following applies to most plants: Plants evaporate water and increase the humidity, according to the BAuA, a lime tree by up to 15 percent. This may be an advantage in dry Egypt, but here mold can follow.
For rule-compliant office inmates, I have a guaranteed chlorophyll-free suggestion on how to get some greenery and even cherry blossom trees on your desk: a Japanese magic garden. Trees, meadows of flowers and even a small mountain Fuji with snow are depicted in miniature on the bright packaging. The manufacturer promises that all this will grow within a few hours.
First you have to fold cardboard parts according to the instructions and fiddle with them on the corresponding fields of a green plastic bowl, which awakens repressed childhood frustrations with handicrafts. Anyone who is ashamed can be assured: The magic garden is really intended for adults and children from the age of ten. Primarily because you shouldn’t drink the packaged liquid that comes with it, but pour it into the bowl. After that you have muddy cardboard, but by the next day pink treetops have sprouted, green-yellow meadows, and there is even snow on the paper Mount Fuji.
The magic comes from crystals. The packaging does not reveal exactly which substances were floating in the solution, but the editors guessed it was alum, potassium-aluminum salts. A colleague even licked a piece of it in a deathly courageous manner. He survived. The crystals settle nicely on the colorful cardboard as soon as the water has evaporated. And, dear colleagues, who miss their monsteras: I am almost certain (30 percent) that the risk of mold is not increased even with 10 magic gardens per square meter.