Cricket Victoria is selling a $16 work from the Shield ticket for people who work from home. You get a seat in a function room, Wi-Fi and a free coffee. I tried to buy one for this week's match. Sold out.

Last season, about 850 people a day watched Sheffield Shield cricket. That is a lot of empty seats. This ticket is meant to fill some of them. The news reports do not say how many seats the room has. We do know one thing. More people wanted a ticket than there were seats.

The headlines said bosses were furious. I went looking for the furious bosses. I found two people, and both work for lobby groups.

Manufactured outrage is a great marketing tactic, and it works every time. A few angry quotes turn a $16 cricket ticket into national news. Cricket Victoria could never buy that much attention for the price of a coffee.

There is a real problem under the noise, though. Some bosses really are upset by the idea of staff working where they can't see them. That part deserves a closer look.

My view? Cricket Victoria got this right. The complainers got it wrong.

What Cricket Victoria did

The Sheffield Shield is cricket between the Australian states. It sits one level below Test cricket. Each match lasts four days, mostly on weekdays. On weekdays, most cricket fans are stuck at work.

So Cricket Victoria brought the work to the cricket. The ticket is for Victoria against South Australia at Junction Oval in St Kilda, on Thursday and Friday. It costs $16. You get entry, a function room, Wi-Fi and one free tea or coffee. A normal Shield ticket in Victoria costs $10.

Chief executive Nick Cummins asked a simple question in The Australian Financial Review. If people can work from home, why not from the cricket? The AFR says the announcement got more than 2,827 shares, 180 comments and 3,000 likes. That is a record for Cricket Victoria.

The idea came from England. In May, Surrey, a cricket club in London, started a work-from-the-Oval ticket. Its post got more than 1 million views on X. In June, The Athletic reported that Surrey's crowds beat all 17 other English county clubs.

Surrey showed the idea fills seats in London. Cricket Victoria's sell-out shows it works in Melbourne too. One critic called it a gimmick. A gimmick that sells out at its first match has a better name: a good product.

So who is angry?

One video report said business owners were appalled. Count the business owners it quoted. Zero.

Two people spoke against the idea. One leads a state business chamber. The other leads the Victorian branch of a national industry group. Both run lobby groups. A cricket story is also a nice way to get on the news.

Here are their two arguments.

Argument one: take the day off. The chamber says cricket and work each need your full attention. Its advice, in the News24 report, was to "take the day off." Thanks. A day off is a day off. Cricket Victoria made a ticket for working days. What they really mean is simple. If the boss can't see you, you must be lazy. Great leadership, straight from 1955.

This is only news because of the cricket. A worker at home can have a soap opera on all afternoon, and no newspaper cares. The cricket just put remote workers where everyone could see them.

Argument two: I can't, so you can't. The industry group leader is the one who called the ticket a gimmick. He said he cannot watch a Test at home and work at the same time. So, he said, it would be even harder at the ground. He would tell his own staff not to try.

Read that again. He can't do it, so nobody can. By the same logic, a man who can't swim should close the beach. His staff are adults with their own skills. Some of them might even be better at this than he is.

Then comes the reply that turns up in every work-from-home debate. Someone always says something like, "I'm a chef. I'm a taxi driver. I can't work from the cricket!" Correct. The ticket is for people whose job fits in a laptop bag. A chef needs a kitchen. A taxi driver needs a taxi. That is the same argument again, wearing an apron: I can't, so you can't. Different jobs work in different ways. Grown-ups understand this.

Cricket or a soap opera. The work is the only question.

The real problem is the boss

Take away the cricket. Both arguments say the same thing: I trust my staff only when I can see them. That is a trust problem. It belongs to the boss.

If you cannot trust someone, do not hire them. If you hired them and still cannot trust them, check your hiring. Then check your management.

I run a studio. I do not track my staff. I look at the work. Is it on time? Is it good? That is all I need to know.

A good leader tells the team one thing: I don't care what you do, I want the work done. Where you sit is your business. All I care about is the results.

Now picture this. A staff member spends all day at the cricket. The work arrives on time, and it is good. The boss is still upset. Why?

My answer is insecurity. A business owner who runs a company like this is setting it up to fail. Good people leave, and the owner is left watching the ones who stayed. The watching manager has the same problem, plus one more. They have little talent of their own. They got the job, and now they must justify it. Watching other people work is the easiest way to look busy.

If that sounds like you, get some coaching in delegation and measuring results. A cricket ban fixes nothing.

Then the same bosses worry about quiet quitting. They blame young workers, Gen Z. Here is a surprise. Watch people every second, and they give you only what you can see. The boss caused the quiet quitting.

A note for workers. If a hiring manager wants you in the office so they can watch you, stay away from that job. You don't want that.

If you can only trust staff you can see, you are the problem.

Who this ticket is for

I work from home, with clients in the US, Asia, Latin America and Europe. My day follows their time zones, so it comes in pieces. The Americas reach me overnight and in the morning. Asia comes in the afternoon. Europe comes in the evening.

The bosses imagine a nine to five day in one city. My day covers four regions. A day at the cricket fits between the pieces. I answer Asia during breaks in play, then answer Europe from home. For $16, that is a good office.

Plenty of Melbourne workers already do this, quietly. In September, 100,021 people went to the MCG on a Friday morning to watch an NFL game. One banking veteran joked that 70 per cent of the crowd was "working from home."

Cricket Victoria made this honest. Workers who would sneak out anyway now get a room, Wi-Fi and a coffee. The ground gets a crowd. The employer gets a worker who is online.

The workers were already at the game. Now they have Wi-Fi.

What happens next

The work ticket returns in March, when Victoria plays New South Wales at Junction Oval. Victoria plays its other three home Shield matches at the MCG, which has no work area yet. Here is where the idea can go.

Cricket Australia: sell the quiet week. The Boxing Day Test starts on 26 December, a public holiday. Day one sells itself. Days two to five fall between Christmas and New Year. In my experience, many people that week are half on holiday and half on call. A work lounge at the Test, with desks, Wi-Fi and a view, is made for them. I would buy a ticket. That is my guess about demand, and it is easy to test.

Venues with empty weekdays: copy the idea. You need a room, Wi-Fi, a hot drink and a small extra charge. Racecourses, golf clubs, galleries and wineries all have empty space on weekdays. Try it for one day. Count the bookings. Let the numbers decide.

Employers: judge the work. A staff member asks to work from the cricket? Ask what they will finish that day. Then check that it arrives. That is the same test you use for working from home. Ban it, and your staff learn that you care more about watching than results. They will remember that at their next review.

Stop watching the worker. Start judging the work.