The World I Worked Into No Longer Exists

I put in the earbuds and walked briskly to the train station. I hopped on a westbound express. When the train pulled up to Atlantic Terminal, I walked into Brooklyn to meet the leadership team I'd worked remotely with for years. I've seen these people on a computer screen; now they are in meatspace at this beer garden. I purchased a big glass of lager to relax, not knowing to handshake, hug, or stare, understanding they were real. This experience is remote work during an easing pandemic. I have an idea of what it's like, living it for almost three years.

They say working remotely is different than working remotely during a pandemic. I see what the advocates mean. My two decades of working in software included the practice lined by proponents who advocated full implementation. But COVID-19 had turned everything upside down personally and professionally, with an unusual type of world-ending stress. I am the lucky cardholder of a job change while the pandemic unfolded. Instead of a smooth transition into the next job, I watched the President address the nation nightly, bought cases of meals-ready-to-eat, and hastily set up my non-technical father to work digitally after forty years of mental sweat in cubicles. Now years after the outbreak, I compare my remote experience with working with people in office spaces. Being alone is fine, but the experience has been intensely solo, surrounded by a beautiful family I've built.

No Books I've Read Give Guidance

Things feel familiar from an old world as I socialize with the people in the beer garden. As the alcohol takes hold, I do not mind the new distance from my family and children. I know we are to share pieces about each other as we avoid talking about shop, but it does creep in. I'm looking for polite cues to discuss and, at the same time, deliver a little edge on jokes. In the process, I am sure I said something that offended them. But mainly, I smile and listen in groups. When it made sense, I shared advice on being a nerd or a parent to those expecting. I have three. But in this setting, I am consciously aware of the people who have power in the organization. Of course, I want to connect, but I avoid flying too close to the sun. It's a tricky balance now we have met for the first time in person, and no books I've read give guidance in this scenario.

In remote work, I've noticed focusing on tasks is easier than in an office setting. I grasp what is happening within the team. The experience is contra to what I would have expected. Everything is purposefully executed, whether it be the work, conversations, or ideations. I have time to do other stuff. When it comes to focusing, there was a hump for navigating extreme freedom found, but now it's a breeze. Remote working excels at muting the noise of people interaction, distilling what needs to happen, which is excellent for present work. And for future work, innovation, and career advancement, these concepts originate from motivated individuals regardless of location.

As I mingle at this beer garden, a conversation gets serious with my manager. Socializing with coworkers above in the hierarchy often elevates the context of work. I want to discuss where we have issues, what I need for the team, and what I can do to keep the business running to expectation. I take a moment to refocus our conversation on lighter things, sharing my hobbies in my off time. But a feeling rushes over me. As soon as it started, it was over. I'll have to travel the journey back to where I had come from, a particular place with a way of living. My bedroom community has become a partial dining room table society of randos present during the day, where time moves at twice the speed. While my spouse returned to the office, I'm holding on tight. These afternoon walks are the best I've experienced.

The B-Movie Psychological Thriller Script

I sometimes experience flashbacks to the height of the pandemic. My experience was from a B-movie psychological thriller script that ran for weeks as the virus invaded our entire family. With my Dad on the phone, he struggled to breathe while battling a variant. My kids were all sick, and my spouse was in bed, coughing. I'm the only one who hasn't caught it yet, but I knew my time would eventually come. My 7-week-old newborn spikes a 102 fever, and the pediatrician orders us to the emergency room. It's midnight, and I'm driving with him to the hospital. I am called to cut the line ahead of the walking dead. He is tested for the virus by doctors in spacesuits. As they shoved the swab up his nose, his scream was nothing I'd ever heard. They confirmed it was COVID-19. He's placed in care and given medication as I held him. Hours go by, we bond, and it's over. His fever breaks, and we exit the hospital as the sun rises.

As I lay sick in bed days later, the experience opened my eyes to what I'll learn through a pandemic. One, permanent change is in for all of us, and I'll tell my son what happened when he's older. Two, no matter the global origin, the inevitable sickness eventually arrives. Three, horrible news often comes during these times. I discovered my Dad's cancer diagnosis. But to keep the story in context, my loving Aunt had died in the hospital from coexisting conditions.

When I think deeply about what has transpired over these years, remote work poignantly surfaces what is happening in one's life. If there are tensions in a personal relationship, they are heightened. If one feels lonely, it will feel lonelier. It will show if there is a desire for increased socialization. The cracks in maintaining one's life are openly exposed in remote work. Everything is tested because there is no escape to an alternative world. So, I felt all of it. I vowed to strengthen my marriage, submit myself to therapy, make new friends, and find social bonds. As I grow older, it's not all velvet. Before the pandemic, I held on to a few friends who moved away, finding comfort in those I work with in person. I was soft to a few because I desired companionship. It just depended on the first impression. Now the office does not exist.

For me, remote work is an unforgiving forcing function of truth. In a remote setting, bonds are built into a new priority. The good news is I'd reach out, seek mental help, build better relations with coworkers, and improve my relationships. In remote work, it's everything and the work. One thing is sure; this is the future. Looking out the window, I feel different folding the laundry on a remote call. I smile as I walk my children to school, building beautiful relationships with them. Dad and I often speak, guiding him through his cancer treatments. Nevertheless, I'm tortured by the dedicated work ethic to show up instilled by my parents of yesteryear. It's evaporated overnight as the next generation will consider the practice as expected. Work is getting done well. I promise myself I am a professional, but deep down, there is unresolved guilt to unlearn. So, I write to unthink, placing the heroic thinking in a box labeled as expired.

The World I Worked Into No Longer Exists

As I leave the beer garden, I say goodbye to the team. I feel immense happiness with these people. These are the individuals I'll see tomorrow on a video call, as we've always had for the past few years. We will continue to run the business as required. My employer made it an excellent place to work in such a difficult time. These people are kind, but I left sad knowing remote work is a place that exists in my head. I am sure others feel the same, even those who left during the great resignation.

Walking back, I thought a bit further about remote work. There are positives. It is a beautiful device allowing me to refocus on what is essential in my life — my spouse, children, parents, and the software craft. If I were in an office, the new side projects I've started would be impossible. I would not get to see my children grow or my father defeat cancer. So I've warmed up to remote in a way I hadn't suspected, being a former contrarian about the practice. My story is one of the millions who went through personal whiplash, but mine persists; I've committed. I am working in a new way, which is my way. Fewer trains, getting sick, less stress, wasted time, minimal gossip, and time focused on what makes my life whole.

Close to Atlantic Terminal, I noticed the clever slogan off Flatbush Ave. It read, "The world you were born into no longer exists." I reflected on this time. "Yeah, it doesn't," I smiled. I boarded the train and went back to where I came from. Walking home, I received a LinkedIn message from an old coworker from my past. "Hey, was that you on Flatbush? I saw you! It's been years. How are you doing?" I laughed loudly and replied, "Yeah, doing alright, I guess. Remember when we worked together in our so-called office? Not a chance I'm going back."

I received another text days later. "Hey all, sorry to tell you this, but there has been an exposure to COVID-19 at our party." As I placed another swab up my nose, a belief bubbled up, "the world I worked into no longer exists." From then on, I made remote my working paradise.