We had the rare pleasure of sitting down with Trevor Higgins, a man who’s somehow made a thriving career out of looking like he’s holding the office together while doing absolutely nothing. Sitting in his faux-cluttered cubicle, Trevor smirks like someone who’s got the game all figured out. And maybe he has. Let’s find out how he explains the intricate art of workplace slacking.
“Look, it’s dead simple,” he begins, leaning back in his chair with an air of total mastery. “No one actually knows what anyone else is doing in an office, right? They only know what they see. That’s the whole game, mate: visible hustle. If you look like you’re deep in it, people just assume you are. The real secret is, don’t move too much but make noise. Show that you are, you know, suffering a bit.” He chuckles, tapping his pen on his coffee-stained notepad for emphasis. “To everyone else, it looks like effort. And if it looks like effort, well, then, it is effort, as far they’re concerned.”
The Morning Coffee Pilgrimage
“You’ve got to start the day right. And by ‘right,’ I mean right. Get it? … Doesn’t matter – You see, the coffee run isn’t just about caffeine; it’s a carefully orchestrated ritual. I don’t just make coffee, no, that’s for amateurs. First, I do the whole slow walk to the break room, looking a bit confused, as if I was just asked to prove Fermat’s last theorem. I’ll stand in front of the machine, hands on my hips, and ponder the options like I’m making a life-or-death decision. People see me and think, ‘Wow, he’s deep in thought already.’ But really, I’m just killing time. Then, I get into the actual making of the coffee; stirring it like it’s I’m an alchemist preparing an elixir of life, which I kind of am, checking the milk temperature, the works. I’m doing nothing useful but if anyone asks, I can say I’m mentally preparing for the day. By the time I’m back at my desk, I’ve burned a solid 20 minutes just looking like I’m building up to something monumental.”
Trevor’s face lights up as he recounts his coffee antics, visibly proud. “And it’s all for show, haha! The entire coffee process is designed to say, ‘I’m so busy I barely even have time to make this cup.’ When in reality, it’s the exact opposite. And nobody notices!”
Tab Mastery and the Power of the Spreadsheet
Trevor shifts in his chair and adopts a serious expression, bringing his hands together to form a pyramid with his fingers. “Now, when I sit down, I’ve got to make my workspace look like the cockpit of a space shuttle. You know, tabs, spreadsheets. I open up at least a dozen of them. Any site that screams ‘I’m doing things’ is open. A few tabs are work-related, sure, but they’re mostly for show. Most of the time, I’m actually reading football news, checking fantasy league stats or googling how to get that weird stain out of my kitchen tiles. But the trick is to have at least one tab with a graph on it. Preferably something that looks complex. That’s for emergencies. If someone walks by, I can flick over to the chart and pretend I’m analyzing data like it’s the crash of ’29.”
He leans forward, as if he’s about to reveal a trade secret. “The spreadsheet is my crown jewel. I’ll pull up this massive Excel sheet filled with meaningless figures. I’ll scroll up and down furiously, like I’m checking something important, even if I have no idea what half of it means. I downloaded that sheet from a free Excel course I took in 2008; I still have no idea what the hell that is, but it works. To everyone else, I look like a data analyst solving global problems. To me, I’m just counting down till lunch.”
Meetings: The Art of Nodding and the Nonsense Speak
At this point, Trevor’s grin turns into something almost conspiratorial. “Meetings? Oh boy, meetings are gold, mate. All you have to do is look like you’re listening. Half the time, I’m just thinking about my weekend plans. But I’ve got this whole system for looking engaged: the thoughtful nod, the occasional ‘Hmm,’ and the stare off into the distance like I’m solving world hunger. And if someone addresses me directly, I’ve got a whole bank of useless phrases ready to go. I’ll say something like ‘I think we should involve Ted, he has very good insights on this. You can just circle back with him and streamline that approach, it’s fine with me.’ Total bull. I don’t even know any Ted, but nobody’s gonna question it because nobody wants to be the one who doesn’t know Ted. It’s perfect because it gives them nothing to latch onto. Everyone nods, happy with my supposed contribution, and moves on.”
He chuckles, clearly amused with his own cleverness. “The beauty of meetings is that it’s all a performance. Nobody actually knows what’s going on anyway, so they just assume you’re as lost in thought as they are.”
Read also: Study Shows 90% of Meetings Could Have Been Emails
Looking “Stressed”
Trevor raises his eyebrows as he introduces his favorite trick: looking stressed without lifting a finger. “Here’s where you really prove your worth: act like you’re overwhelmed. I’ve got my keyboard typing nailed down to an art form. I’ll hammer away, type some nonsense, hit backspace a few times and sigh dramatically. The sound of the keys clacking, mate, it’s like music to a manager’s ears. If they hear you typing away, they assume you’re working on something big. Little do they know I’m just writing out my grocery list or watching cat videos.”
He shakes his head with a satisfied grin. “And then, the random sigh – that’s the pièce de résistance. Every so often, I’ll sigh, rub my forehead, look at my screen with a defeated expression. It’s an Oscar-worthy performance, trust me. To everyone else, I look like I’m carrying the weight of the company on my back. In reality, I’m just scrolling through a Wikipedia rabbit hole.”
The Perpetual “Almost Finished”
“Of course, you can’t always dodge assignments,” Trevor concedes. “But I’ve got a foolproof method to stretch out a task for as long as possible. Whenever my boss asks for an update, I just say I’m ‘nearly there’ or ‘just waiting on that one email to be able to proceed further.’ That usually keeps them off my back for a day or two. And if they give me something new to do, I say, ‘Let me wrap this up first,’ and they never question it. ‘Finishing touches’ is a magic phrase. Nobody interrupts ‘finishing touches’ because it sounds like I’m almost done. Little do they know, I’m not planning to finish anytime soon.”
He leans back and laughs. “Honestly, I can drag a task out for weeks with the right balance of vague promises and pretending I’m waiting on other people. It’s all about creating a sense of mystery here.”
Breaks
“Breaks are sacred, mate. You need them to stay productive,” he says, nodding. “But not just any breaks. They have to look justified. I’ll take a lap around the office every hour or so, stopping occasionally to inspect some random piece of furniture or look through the window like I’m deep in thought. People see me and think I’m working something out, but really, I’m just stretching my legs. And then there’s the bathroom break. I’ll duck out, spend a good 10 minutes scrolling on my phone while faking a shit. Nobody’s gonna risk the awkward conversation of asking someone why they’re constantly on the toilet. When I come back, I’ll walk fast, with a serious look on my face, like I’ve just had a lightbulb moment while I was, you know, faking my uh… Well, you got it. Works like a charm.”
Trevor grins as he sums up his philosophy. “The real key to all of this? Confidence. You’ve got to do nothing with total confidence. Half the people in any office are bluffing anyway, so if you act like you’re on top of things, everyone believes you are. No one actually knows you’re accomplishing close to nothing, as long as you look like you’re bearing the weight of the world, send an email once in while and maybe turn in an assignment or two every couple of months. Honestly, the real difficulty with this approach is not getting promoted.”
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