One more bit of anecdotal evidence that habit gets hardwired in our corporate psyches.

The head office at my old company has several conference rooms. The primary venue for meetings is The Blue Room, just outside the president’s office. It was called The Blue Room because, back in the ‘80s, the chairs around the conference table were blue. Over time, these were replaced by burgundy chairs and then black ones. Even the black chairs are, at this point, long overdue for replacement.

Down the hall, beyond the accounting offices, through a locked security door, beyond a small lobby, down a corridor lined with motivational posters and union message boards, past the nurse’s station, the lunchroom, the washrooms and the morgue for useless files of failed projects, is a second meeting place, The Red Room. It was called the Red Room because, back in the ‘80s, the curtains covering the grubby wood windows were red. Over time, the red curtains were replaced by blue ones and these, eventually, by white vertical blinds. (Last time I looked, though, the windows were still pretty grubby.)

The point is, two decades and three generations of management later, The Blue Room is still referred to as The Blue Room and The Red Room as The Red Room though absolutely no one – with the exception, perhaps, of a certain superannuated gentleman – has the slightest idea why.

I guess I shouldn’t be smug. In our kitchen is a counter where the microwave used to be. We had long-ago graduated to an over-the-range unit. But when we look for important papers, my wife says, “look on the counter where the microwave used to be”.

Our old places and things and friends are comfortable because we cling to the terms of reference that defined them in the first place…long after they have changed and most especially long after they have gone.