I get it. Really, I do.
Thousands of you have been unwillingly relegated to work-from-home status as a result of the pandemic. The co-workers you used to see every day have been replaced by houseplants / cats / dogs / children / partners / the occasional plumber.
You miss the things you took for granted when you worked on site: Chit-chat before meetings, friendly greetings in the corridors, laughs over lunch, commiseration over bad hair days in the bathroom (amiright, ladies?). You might even kinda sorta miss the co-workers you couldn’t stand before. (At least they made life interesting!)
To make matters worse, you don’t see your friends or relatives or acquaintances much either, and when you do, it’s only from above the nose and below the chin.
So, naturally, when it comes time for virtual meetings, you want to see people. You are hungry for eyes, mouths, ears, cryptic facial expressions, anything.
Dear reader, I understand.
But here’s the thing: I’ve been working from home for the past eleven years, by choice. After years of working in offices, I struck out on my own, craving the freedom and control of being my own boss and the flexibility to allocate more time to my family and my own writing beyond my work in advertising / marketing.
And I love it.
The amount I pay for health insurance blows, yes, but the perks are undeniable: I get to stay in my PJs as long as I want, keep my hair in a ponytail, and go to the grocery store in the middle of the day if I damned well please. I don’t have to sit in traffic, fight for a seat on the subway, or pay $12 for a sandwich. I give myself as much vacation time as I can afford, and I can pick my kids up after school if it’s raining.
Do I miss having in-person coworkers? The meetings, the lunches, the leftover birthday cake in the kitchen? Hardly ever. (Well, no, I guess I miss the cake. Cake is nice.)
But it’s not like I’m completely isolated. I have meetings with clients a few times a week on average. Pre-pandemic, they were occasionally in person, which I enjoyed, since they were occasional and therefore a nice change of scene. (It gave me an excuse to wear my nice-ish clothes!) But mostly, they were conference calls. CALLS. As in, no faces, just voices—even on computer-based call services like WebEx where video was an option. CALLS.
Calls as in me in my pajamas or on my bed or in my car in parking lot of the grocery store before I go in. As in me doing mindless things like chopping onions or wiping down the kitchen cabinets while I listen and talk, pausing as needed to jot down notes. As in me in the bathroom—just kidding. I never did that. Honest.
But ever since March 2020, can we have a voice-only call? Just stick our little avatars or names up there, or use the dial-in number? NoooooOooO! We all have to turn our cameras on. Even while someone else is screen sharing we have to SHOW OUR GODDAMNED FACES in the little windows on the side because we’re all just SooOOOOooo lonely.
But what does this mean for me, your humble, happy, long-time work-from-home freelancer? This means I have to do all the things I gleefully abandoned years ago: I have to put on makeup (lest I blind everyone with my paleness), wear something vaguely presentable (as an independent consultant I can’t get away with looking like atotal shlub), stay in one place (which canNOT be my bed) and look engaged every single second. I cannot chop onions. I cannot be in my car in the grocery store parking lot. (No wifi, no outlet for my computer). I can not clandestinely eat my lunch.
Worse—nay, worst of all—I have to look at myself.
I know, I know, I don’t have to. But of course I do! You do too! It’s impossible not to periodically look at yourself on video calls! And suddenly, instead of focusing on the meeting, I’m distracted with stupid thoughts like: Is that really what I look like when I talk? Why is my hair doing that weird thing? How long was I breathing through my mouth, and do I always do that? Can they tell I don’t have a bra on under this fleece jacket thrown over a pajama top that I’m wearing because I didn’t leave enough time to get dressed before this meeting? And….oh God, what the hell is happening with my neck? Is that a FOLD at the bottom?
And as if that isn’t distracting and dispiriting enough, I have to make my surroundings look professional, too. (Yeah, no, those Zoom backgrounds don’t work on my computer; they swallow me up so I look like the Golden Gate Bridge or an Ikea-furnished living room or whatever, but with eyes and a mouth. Disturbing.)
I have to let everyone see my weird, dark cave of an office, which doubles as a guest room and hang-out room for the kids, who leave blankets and crap strewn over the futon couch. There’s a messy shelf full of photo albums and boxes along one wall, a dartboard on another, and a towel rack on the back of the door for overnight guests. It’s not exactly a setup that screams “This is a competent, qualified professional whom you should pay thousands of dollars.”
These were things I didn’t have to think about until last year.
And, yes, I could keep my camera off during calls. But if everyone else has theirs on and I don’t, I feel like the asshole. Plus, as someone who has to earn every job, it doesn’t look good. Neither do the dartboard and towel rack, of course, but they’re prefereable to my remaining invisible. (I think?)
(Note to self: Take the towel rack down. “Overnight guests” are not currently a thing.)
Look, dear legions of fellow white collar professionals. It’s nice to see your faces and your smiles. Especially if we’ve never met before and will be working together frequently. It does make for better, more nuanced communications in some cases, being able to see expressions. Moreover, I know this brave new world of working from home is new to you, and you miss your in-office, three-dimensional work life.
But now, a year and change into this thing, isn’t the Zoom thing getting a bit old? Can we go back to those civilized days of the voice-only conference call? At least sometimes, maybe, when we all already know each other? Please?
I am writing this post in my pajamas, no makeup on, sitting in my messy kitchen. Nobody is looking at me but my cat.
And I am so happy.
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