My husband is taking me on a tour of his new office building. It’s two years old, very modern, sleek, and colored a light smoky blue. We enter the marketing/sales wing, a square 50 yard rat maze of cubicles. There’s not one picture on the walls, and only one dusty, fake plant in a sea of fabricated half walls. 

“What do you think?” he asks, weaving his way to his office. If they had not put a name plate on it, I’m not sure he, or anyone else, would be able to locate it twice.

“It’s awfully….sterile.” I whisper.

He looks around, as if he is SEEING his work space for the first time. “Yeah, it is kind of empty.” A room full of 43 people -- devoid of life. Not exactly the place I’d want anyone to spend the majority of their waking time.