June 21, 2024 - 7:30pm

Earlier this month, Wells Fargo fired several employees for pretending to work. According to the bank, the staff had been using “mouse jigglers” to simulate activity. This software prevents a computer from falling into idle mode, and so fools a supervisor into believing that the employee is busy, when they are not.

“Wells Fargo holds employees to the highest standards and does not tolerate unethical behaviour,” the bank explained.

“Use them wisely,” advises one “unethical” advocate — the Instagrammer “antiworkgirlboss” — of using the jigglers. She’s one of a number of influencers promoting workplace idleness as a lifestyle choice. One of her mantras is “Working hard is a choice we get to decide for ourselves”.  Simulation tools such as jigglers are “part of her digital footprint”, she says. And now she has a powerful friend, in the shape of one of the richest companies on the planet.

Last month Microsoft began to market its generative artificial intelligence Copilot software to employees under the implicit pretext that they could use it to deceive their boss. The ad suggests it can help you attend three meetings at once and turn 150 pages into a five minute presentation. Yet claiming to be in three meetings at once is no different to the “unethical behaviour” which got the mouse jigglers fired at Wells Fargo: the employee is deceiving their boss by pretending to be busier than they actually are.

The subject of workplace idleness remains largely untouched by academics. The Swedish sociologist Roland Paulsen, who examined the phenomenon and coined the phrase “empty labour” in his eponymous 2014 book, describes how he was shunned by his colleagues for investigating the subject. They preferred a rigidly Marxist explanation of an oppressor (the employer) and an oppressed (the employee).

Yet as David Bolchover — who disappeared for two years as a senior manager in the insurance industry — argues, recounting the experience in his book The Living Dead, idleness is a luxury really only available to middle-class management. Marx would have recognised it instantly as a bourgeois sinecure. The Right is equally wary to address the subject, for widespread idleness dents the notion of an inherently efficient private sector, and also suggests that supposedly competitive marketplaces are less competitive than participating firms would have us believe.

Much of the expansion has come from regulatory compliance – almost as many employees work in human resources as work in agriculture – and maintaining swollen technology teams.

Into this complex sociological picture comes generative AI, which creates pastiches very impressively, performing the role of a supercharged mouse jiggler. It’s a very modern prop for the idle and the dishonest employee. Early in 2023, the cartoonist Tom Fishburne captured the potential of AI for make-work in a simple cartoon. In one panel, an employee boasts to a colleague: “AI turns this single bullet point into a long email I can pretend I wrote.” In the second, another employee says: “AI makes a single bullet point out of this long email I can pretend I read.” The joke rests on the fact that most internal corporate communication is completely superfluous, so automating it is an expensive way of making an already-inefficient organisation even less productive. And it doesn’t come cheap, either. Microsoft charges £24.70 monthly per user for its Copilot AI software. This is on top of the £18.10-per-month Microsoft 365 Business Premium package. At almost £300 per year for each user, one has to wonder if the benefits really outweigh the cost.

We’ve been promised a productivity miracle from AI, but workplace idleness is a factor that does not feature in such Panglossian forecasts. For example, the IMF continues to fret about widespread workforce instability and inequalities from AI. Yet the productivity gains from introducing a brilliant but unreliable mimic into the workplace may not merely be overstated — they may never materialise at all. Not if the jigglers get there first.