Let me kick this off by saying that working from home has its positives. That goes without saying. Being able to do the school run. Not having to commute each day. Fitting your work around a busy life. However, after a year of WFH as a freelancer, I’m starting to notice a few strong disadvantages too.
In the old days you got up, had a shower, got dressed, then got on public transport, maybe reading a book on the way or listening to some angry music (to vent those rage feelings towards colleagues you didn’t like so much). You felt part of a collective of people. You got to know your colleagues on a deeper level.
In the office
there was order, routine and structure. There was no chaos, mess and Lego bricks stuck between your toes. You had meetings where you sat opposite one another, and perhaps noticed that Jim from accounts was in the middle of a traumatic marriage collapse. You also saw that the junior executive was crying in the toilet, and you made a mental note to check in on her later to see if she was okay.
There was the work lunch break where you would walk around the block with your work besties (usually punctuated by a long, detailed conversation on what you were going to eat), and catch up on their lives, also the details on who would wounded them the most that week, who was wearing terrible shoes, and what could be done to right at least some of these things. I miss those work lunches.
I miss the social connections. Seeing the whites of peoples eyes. Reading their body language. Understanding that they have a context which explains their behaviour. When I work with Gen Z colleagues now I feel they are often paranoid about what’s going on around them. This is perfectly valid. I feel paranoid too – all the time.
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It’s hard to understand the context when you’re dealing solely with a few typed words on a screen. So the email that you get from your manager which asks you to do something as it’s super urgent? Well, it could just mean that they want something to be done because it’s super urgent. Or it could mean that they are angry with you. And is the lack of a smiley face on their recent Slack message because they hate you?
I have often found myself sitting on my sofa, at home, in silence, waiting for an email to arrive. In the office I’d go into the kitchen, make myself tea, talk to a work colleague, maybe we’d chat about the new season of whatever show was the equivalent of
The White Lotus
Once I returned, if there hadn’t been an email from my manager, I would find them directly. It could be possible that they appeared very stressed, having non-stop consecutive meetings, which explains why they didn’t respond—because they were occupied rather than being involved in some HR discussion planning my dismissal.
People tend to focus more on negative occurrences instead of positive ones due to their inherent negativity bias. This predisposition could be rooted in our ancestors’ times when we lived in caves and needed to recall where the snakes were lurking for survival purposes. Recognizing perilous dangers back then was crucial for staying alive.
In
a WFH context
This pessimistic tendency leads us to frequently anticipate unfavorable outcomes during periods of quiet. Additionally, this doesn’t provide an adequate chance for expressing feelings or digesting experiences related to our job. In the past, after delivering a significant presentation to a client, my coworker and I would typically take the train home together. On Fridays, we might indulge in some coffee or perhaps share a pint at a local pub as well. During these journeys, we’d discuss how things went, identifying who paid attention and who posed challenges—processing everything collaboratively before moving forward. Nowadays, however, those lingering concerns from work haunt me around my residence, appearing unexpectedly late at night when nature calls. They keep me awake and mentally tethered to professional matters.
I recently delivered an extensive presentation to a client group.
on Zoom
From my children’s room (since I don’t have an office), I experienced the usual rush of adrenaline as I strained to see how my pitch was being received. A few attendees had turned off their video feeds; one seemed engrossed in another task with his face awkwardly tilted. After concluding the presentation, I found myself alone in quiet solitude. Were they impressed, or did they despise it? I yearned for some feedback—maybe even just to celebrate my effort. But the only entity available for conversation was one of the trio of rather indifferent cats lounging around.
I found myself missing those times when we would complain about the client at the bar. Regardless of any issues that arose, they were usually resolved by the end of the night, leaving us with a sense of stability by the time we returned home.
When my partner arrives home, he faces an onslaught of non-stop talking that could extend for as long as sixty minutes. “May I remove my jacket?” he inquires gently as I recount every article I’ve written; speculations on why individuals avoid me or ignore my proposals; concluding that my freelance career has definitively ended. After absorbing all the tension from his distressed spouse, he remarks, “I require some rest now.”
One thing I’ve noticed is how many people are now replying with very short one-word answers. In the office this would have perhaps been a nod from your boss as they ran past to go into another meeting. Now the one word leaves so much space for that old negative bias to come creeping in again.
For many mothers
working from home
it also means a never-ending to-do list. Work that is paid and unpaid (i.e. washing/tidying/cooking/cleaning/school admin) has become mixed together in an unhealthy cocktail of burnout. The assumption is that if you’re WFH then you have time to do even more than you did when you were in the office. Most of the mothers I know who WFH use their breaks to pick up toys, hang washing up, prepare tea, and to fire off a thousand WhatsApps to the various school and mum channels.
It’s like working at air traffic control – no time off, no time to zone out, juggling many things, and always staying engaged in work of one form or another. At the office there was definitely downtime. Would I want to be in an office all the time? No. Do I miss it sometimes? Yes. Am I lonely and mainly hanging out with my cats, feeling paranoid? Yes. Do you fancy chatting about
White Lotus
with me? Answers on an email please.