Friends would have us hardly working at WFH
Now there’s an acronym I’ve only recently become familiar with hearing and using. WFH — work from home.
It’s not a novel concept, mind you. For eons, lots o’ companies all over this big blue rock — huge corporations and even teeny weeny Ma-and-Pa type shops — have employed thousands upon thousands of staffers who work from their homes. Or from the first counter stool at Bob Evans. Or the back end of the Starbucks cafe. Or the common area of the public library. Or… I don’t know, the bed of a pickup truck on a sunny day?
Whichever, there are oodles and oodles of us who are gladly punching the microwave coffee reheat button as our time clock these days, you dig?
Indeed, the notion of ad hoc or vendor services (precursor to WFH) is a time-honored tradition that started back in the days of, you know, the starting of the days.
Think about it.
Do you honestly believe that Homo habilis really carved out his comfy rock formation casa with its state-of-the-art mud flooring and authentic branch rooftop complete with not-so-optional skylight all by himself? Hardly.
You and I both know he hired Caveman Contracting for the heavy boulder lifting on that one.
Truth be told, lots of folks have been working from home forever. For instance, um, farmers. Or um, tailors.
How about toolmakers or musicians or playwrights or bakers … or carpenters? OK, I’m a big JC fan; had to slip it in.
I’m just sayin’ that WFH is hardly a new thing, obvi.
But, especially during like, you know, plagues and whatnot, it’s a really, really awesome old thing when your employer affords you that option. I speak of the one providing me security, convenience and the continued ability to live and breathe, capisce?
I, for one, can’t thank my day job bosses enough for their incredible latitude and consideration in permitting my cohorts and moi safety, health and … what was that other kinda crucial thing? Oh yeah, that’s right: earning a paycheck. #Blessed
I mean, commuting from the shower to the kitchen? Not that much traffic, yo. Basically, just Monnie and her Mommy at the moment.
To be fair, there’s very little downside to WFH other than missing the person-to-person in-person parts.
And maybe, like occasionally obsessing about why can’t I get the stupid lemon pepper seasoning shaker bottle out of the corner of the lazy Susan. BTW, if she was lazy before, this whole swivel stopper situation put her in a spice-rack-induced coma, a’ight?
Or how the heck 17 generations of Charlotte’s descendants have established residence in every single room of my home?
You remember Charlotte, from her famous self-titled spider-web tale. Do you think it’d make a difference if I tell her I don’t eat pork? #Arachnaphobia IsReal
But those are really the only things. Oh, and I suppose dealing with the rage monster. You know, that beast who emerges every time a neighbor thinks I can act as a taxi service … or a repair-person doorman … or a provisional Amazon, Door Dash, or Giant Eagle depository … on a moment’s notice.
I get it. You see my car in the driveway, so you text or call or IM for a “quick favor,” which I’d normally gladly do! It’s just that, and don’t let this burden you in any way, but I’M FREAKING WORKING FROM HOME, PEOPLE!
Ahem. I digress. Monnie’s Mommy needs five. Stay well and happy, y’all!
Kimerer is a blissful telecommuting professional who loves you lots but can’t always stop what she’s doing to bathe your dog. Contact her at www. patriciakimerer.com.