I was at Happy Kingdom this Sunday, at a five-year-old’s birthday party, surrounded by plastic balls, asking a fellow parent about working from home. She said she loves it.
She told me about a survey at her job that asked how many days workers would like to come to the office: two or more. They were already coming in one day a week. At that moment, a stranger interjected and said, “If it was an option, maybe everyone would have chosen zero.”
People seem to love working in pyjamas and T-shirts at home, not having to get bundled up, not having to struggle in traffic to get to work. Who wants to go out, especially in the winter, when you don’t have to?
The issue is fraught for managers trying to get workers back in the office. Just look at the battle in Ottawa not too long ago. The federal government had to go to war to get workers back at the office three days a week. But only because our national security was at risk.
Not one person I spoke to, at the plastic wonderland or outside, said they wanted to go back to the office. But they do have some concerns. Not getting enough sunlight. Not meeting new people or socializing. Not getting enough exercise.
No one I talked to brought up the issue of isolation. Being alone in your own head. All day long. One parent picking up her kids after school said it was her first time outdoors that day. She said she was busy trying to get work done for her job at home and didn’t get out into the daylight. Some days go by, and she doesn’t go out at all.
Working from home seems amazing. And it’s comfortable. But it’s also brand new. It’s an experiment we’re performing on ourselves. We’ve always worked together in the past. We’ve worked things out that way too. Today, we’re not forced into work communities. We are curators of our own lives at best. Shipwrecked on our own islands at worst.
I am one of those folks who did like going into the office. But can you blame me? My idea of a horrible workplace is a plastic Happy Kingdom.
