An ode to working from home

Dear Working From Home,

I’ll admit that our relationship got off to a rocky start. I’d just been unceremoniously dumped by Office — and they kept my fancy high-heeled shoes, my ergonomic desk chair, my double monitor, even that foul free coffee.

Suddenly, you and I were sharing space with my child, my dog and my actual husband (how awkward!),  in a small NYC apartment that was never meant to serve as an office, a classroom, a gym, an entertainment studio and a playground all at the same time.

It was a scary, stressful time. But I’ll admit it, you seduced me.

First it was with the pile of laundry lounging alluringly in my bedroom in the middle of the workday. “Do it now,” you whispered — and I did. Because why not? I could!

Then it was the 2+ hours a day you generously saved me by cutting my commute time to zero. “Do you know what you can do with two extra hours in your day?” you said slyly. Oh, did I. I exercised. I made smoothies. I read books. I cleaned (…well, sometimes). I went for walks with my family and my dog.

When I sat down at my computer to work in the morning, it wasn’t with the seething rage of someone who has just spent an hour on the noisy, teeming NYC subway. It was with the cheerful disposition of someone who has just finished a great workout and a delicious smoothie, ready to tackle the day.

And when I signed off for the night, it wasn’t with the frantic desperation of a working mother who is trying to make it home to her kid before bedtime. It was with the casual relaxation of an employee who thinks, “Hey, I’m already here…I can work for 5 more minutes to wrap this up.”

Because have I mentioned how much work you and I accomplished together, WFH? My team held a face-to-face meeting nearly every workday of the pandemic — something we’d never done before. Because of videoconferencing, I saw the faces of co-workers I’d spoken to on the phone for seven years but never met in person because they work in a different borough. I kept a running Google Document of my daily work log so I could file a report each evening listing the work I’d done that day, and that document is now 54 pages long. 

When Office and I were together, I’d have to take half a day off to bring my kid to the dentist or meet with his teacher. With you, I could accomplish errands before my co-workers even knew I was gone from my desk.

While the world was falling apart — and sometimes while my kid was falling apart, too — you and I and my team churned out thousands of emails, graphics, social media posts, newspaper articles, website pages, FAQs, text messages, forms, interviews, phone calls, meetings and files. Office and I may have been on a break, but they got more work out of me than they ever have.

My favorite WFH co-worker.

Once you and I fell into a groove, I was determined to improve the quality of our experience. I invested in WFH infrastructure with my own money: a desk, a chair cushion, an Ethernet cable that stretches from my living room to my bedroom that I gleefully roll up on Friday afternoons.

Office never compensated me for those things; I did it because I’m a conscientious, responsible employee and I wanted to do the best job I could under difficult circumstances.

But I also did it because I was falling for you, WFH. Because you know our dirty little secret, don’t you? The truth is that you and I have always had a thing on the side (and Office knows it, too). I’ve been with you on snow days, when schools were closed and my attention was divided between you and a rambunctious toddler. You and I have had dalliances late at night, early in the morning and even on weekends with my family (how scandalous). After all, "digital" is literally in our job title — we've always known we could see ourselves together seriously.

This year, as I finally got comfortable with you, I started to imagine that you and I could finally be more than a fling. My Microsoft Teams virtual background was literally a picture of my actual office, so convincing that many of my co-workers had no idea I wasn't actually there. I fantasized that the three of us could have a polyamorous relationship — you, me and Office — out in the open. If our relationship were a set of Taylor Swift lyrics, Office would be "mirrorball," and you'd be "cardigan," WFH. (Look it up.)

Now that I know it’s not possible — now that Office wants me back full time — I’m grieving for what you and I had, WFH. I wish I had treasured more the small, mundane joys of walking to the post office on my lunch break and picking my kid up from school. But most of all I wish I had never allowed myself to imagine that our relationship could be possible, because I should have known you were always going to break my heart.

XOXO and love always,

Rachel

P.S. I'll text you from a burner phone the next time the school nurse calls me to do the working mom's walk of shame to retrieve my kid from school early. I have a feeling Office will look the other way.