Kiss Cam whammy made us chuckle, but it has triggered my bonk ban fixation

Kiss Cam, the harbinger of doom that picks out smooching couples in a crowd and projects them for everyone to see, brought out the ugly truth for us all. Every workplace hosts a dodgy relationship, and that hurts the rest of us. I can tell you from personal experience in both newspapers and universities. The relationship, even when consensual, damages how work works.

I have zero idea why workplaces can’t institute a bonk ban. Sure, at the same level and with no chain of command issues, there’s barely a risk – except for the one where you can say to a trusted colleague: Geez, that bloke [you’re rooting] is utterly useless.

Then-chief executive of Astronomer, Andy Byron, and the company’s chief people officer, Kirstin Cabot, at the Coldplay concert.Credit: Aresna Villanueva

When advocating for workplace bonk bans, I’ve been reprimanded by former students who tell me that work is the only place they meet people. My advice? Get out more.

We could and should emulate prime ministers Malcolm Turnbull and Anthony Albanese. Turnbull imposed the bonk ban after the chaos of Barnaby Joyce’s love life. Albanese continued the policy because it was the sensible thing to do. My god, I loved watching the musical chairs among staffers in the wake of the first round of BB.

Why does workplace bonking hurt the rest of us? Here are my own personal experiences.

Exhibit A. Let’s call him Leaden Fool. He had come along to an event I’d organised. He’d spotted a gorgeous young talent and asked for contact details. A few months later, the young thing got a job with us. They then embarked on a relationship that both denied ever existed. Exhausting. They backed each other up in every single crucial decision made. There was never any room for discussion. If they weren’t bonking, they were certainly barracking for each other in every way possible. One has gone on to bigger things, the other consigned to the dustbin of history. But it took a long time and damaged people and processes along the way.

But probably my least favourite experience of working with a couple was working with a throuple (strictly speaking, throuples are consensual all ways). Anyhow, this drunken sleaze was bonking two junior reporters in the same period of time. The sweeties apparently had no idea, although all the other junior reporters knew because, well, journalists are trained observers unless they are in a sex haze. That didn’t end well either. And there were civilians hurt in the process who should have had the chance to grieve in private.

Megan Kerrigan didn’t get a chance to grieve in private. She discovered the bad news when everyone else did, when millions of others did. Her husband, Andy Byron, and his, ahem, date, Kristin Cabot, were caught on Kiss Cam at a Coldplay concert. Sure, it’s easy to get swept up in what the Conservatorium’s Dr Brad Fuller describes to me as looping chords, shimmering guitars and falsetto vocals, both intimate and epic. But you could tell, even under the veil of shame, these two knew each other. In a biblical sense.

Let’s not go over the excruciating details again – but here’s where we are now.

Byron has lost his job as CEO of tech giant Astronomer. I’m struggling to believe that Cabot, acting in a way that is totally inappropriate for a “chief people officer”, will keep her job. The company issued a statement that said it was committed to the values and culture “that have guided us since our founding”. And more: “The board of directors has initiated a formal investigation into this matter, and we will have additional details to share very shortly”.

Come. On. Are these losers from Astronomer telling us that this incident was the first they knew of the affair? If so, utterly puzzling from a company that specialises in artificial intelligence. Can’t even manage natural intelligence, where your instincts tell you if colleagues are indulging in horizontal refreshments, or bumping their uglies. The casual arm-draping, the cosy leaning into each other? That didn’t just happen because of Coldplay’s mastery of what Fuller calls blending hope and melancholia, tapping into the human condition.

Those of you who have ever worked with colleagues having an off-the-record shag will know it’s pretty apparent from day dot. Suddenly, they are awkward beyond belief. The woman who used to criticise a particular colleague is now strangely silent. The man who used to mock another colleague has also lost his tongue. God knows where he left it.

If you are working with these losers, you know what’s going down. You also know, instinctively, that the things you used to say about these two are now strictly forbidden. As the two lovebirds try to shore up their relationship, they build a little fiefdom, making it very difficult to complain, for example, about the head of HR.

I can’t begin to tell you the utter uselessness of HR, the lies, the prevarication, the sheer cowardliness of a department that only services to protect its employers. It didn’t do a good job in this instance. When Cabot was hired by Byron less than a year ago, she said: “Magic happens when you align the people strategy to the business strategy and sync the two”. I’m not quite sure what she means by sync.

Cabot knew what she was doing was wrong. They both did. You can just tell from all the Kiss Cam squirming. Sure, they were shamed publicly. Good. If cheaters be cheating, the rest of us should know.

Jenna Price is a regular columnist for The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age.