What I miss most about work

Now that a month and a half have passed, I’m feeling a bit contemplative, so this is me taking stock of my day-to-day and thinking about what’s changed since I stopped working.

Above left is the at-home “work” station where I laboured every day from March 17, 2020 until retirement day (August 13, 2021). Above right, same station post-retirement, only with rather less (but much newer!) computer equipment and a tablecloth inserted to protect the buffet from the ravages wrought by my rabid mouse.* A much simpler setup — one that doesn’t require the tangle of power cords just out of sight on the left that marred our dining room wall for 17 months. No photo of that, I’m afraid. Didn’t realize one might be needed.

On the other hand (I can’t believe I’m actually saying this), I miss meetings. No, not the trudge-from-your-office-to-another-floor-with-your-laptop-precariously-balanced-with-large-cup-of-coffee variety, but rather those 2020/2021 Zoom and/or Teams video calls that happened multiple times most days. I realize now I haven’t had a single one since my last day of work. Nor any social Zoom calls for that matter, now that we’re kinda, sorta, ok with getting together with others (provided they’re vaccinated, preferably outside, possibly masked, separated by plexiglass, certified safe for close proximity, etc.)

What am I missing? Well, all sorts of fun experiences. Just think; no more:

• cries of “Fred/Jane, you’re on mute!” to the animated face whose lips are moving enthusiastically with nothing emerging
• disembodied voices emerging from black boxes, saying “I don’t know why you can’t see me”
• speculation as to why one or more faces have suddenly and unexpectedly vanished
• subsequent discussions about whether or not to continue in the absence of said faces
• panicked emails from missing participants saying “I’m here, but nobody else is. Am I in the wrong meeting?”
• ditto from the same asking “Can someone please resend the meeting link?”
• speculating as to the origin of strange noises or loud static, and taking turns muting ourselves individually until we figure out whose computer it’s emanating from
• sneak peeks into dining rooms, living rooms, bedrooms, and patios, where random shadowy figures in various states of dress (or undress) pass by, usually oblivious to the fact that they’re on camera
• pets or children doing adorable things for the camera (or refusing to) or sitting on the keyboard generating nonsense chat messages
• relatives telling young offspring, “No, dear, you can’t come back into the family Zoom because you have no clothes on” (yes, this is a personal experience, though one could easily imagine it happening in a work setting too)
• seeing the face(s) of someone — anyone — besides Mr. Fluffster and the Fluffster offspring, without going out (don’t get me wrong, I love them dearly, but I’m accustomed to more variety)

Video meetings can’t replace getting together with people in person, of course, but they were still generally social interactions and (mostly) enjoyable. I’m sure my former fed-up-with-meetings colleagues are thinking enviously of my meeting-free days. Some days I’m right there with them; others, I wish just one more Zoom invite would land in my inbox…

* Laptop stand crafted by Mr. Fluffster.