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By Tom Elia
January 6, 2000
The New Editor
(This column originally appeared in the Philadelphia Inquirer.)
I might be in big trouble.
A Jan. 4th AP article reports that a recent OSHA advisory opinion holds that employers are
responsible for federal health and safety violations in the worker's home workspace.
I think that I may be a criminal.
As a freelance writer, my home workspace (a desk) is in my bedroom. My office, to the
untrained eye, might not be described as a pretty sight. However, to a self-trained decorating
aficionado such as myself, it might be described stylistically as early Hodge-Podge.
In fact, it seems that any inanimate objects that have had the misfortune to appear in my
office have never again seen the light of day. Ask me where to find something and I probably
will have no specific idea where it is. I just know that it is here somewhere.
Old gym shoes with character, perfectly untrained soiled socks standing up on their own,
twice worn u-trou (meticulously turned inside out for sanitation purposes), crumpled papers
teeming with poorly turned phrases, books, sports pages, you name it -- it's all here.
And that's just the doorway. This could be very dangerous place for the uninitiated in early
Hodge-Podge.
My goodness, what would OSHA think? What if their tastes are different from mine?
Previously, to those heathens with no taste, I used to be able to simply close the door. Now
it seems that that action may no longer suffice. But these OSHA people aren't heathens. They
care about me.
What if these caring bureaucrats show up at my door? Would one of them say, 'I'm sorry
Mr. Elia, you'll have to let us in. May we see your workspace, please?"
And if I failed the inspection, what could the possible penalties for safety violations be?
Would they tell my mom? I can see it now. Friends might invite me out for a beer. "I'm sorry
fellas, I can't go grab a beer until I clean my room. Until then, I've been grounded by OSHA."
Maybe I should I turn myself in to avoid any possible recriminations.
Look, I'm no goody-two-shoes, but would I really like to compete in a cat and mouse game
with people who can come up with such brilliant policy decisions?
Nah, on second thought, I think I'll chance being a fugitive from justice. If OSHA knocks on
my door, I'll let them in. If they try and make me clean my room, I won't do it. I'm 39 years
old now. If they persist, I'll trip 'em, give 'em an atomic wedgie and a pink belly, and send
them from whence they came.
Then I'll tell their mom.
Tom Elia is a contributing editor for The New Editor.
Paul Geary
David Rogers