My Corona Diary (Take XL): "We Need You Back (In The Office, That Is)..."

 

<"We Need You Back..."
Take I/The Reckoner>

<i.>

It had to happen, I suppose. Like millions of other workers out there, I too am now feeling the nudge-nudge-nudge -- gently-gently, at first, but lately, it feels more like a rude poke in the ribs -- to come back into the office, "if only for once or twice a week."

Given that I've largely made my living from my living room for 16-odd years, this directive strikes me as odd, especially after recalling how The Powers That Be (TPTB) sold my current job: "You'll keep doing what you're doing now, from home, but you'll get a regular paycheck." Sounded good to me, so I signed up, and that's how I've been spending my last year.

Apparently, that's not good enough anymore, though why hasn't been made clear to me, since my work -- primarily editorial, as I've chronicled -- can be done anywhere. It's not a new argument, as I realized in 2004, when I pitched a big city paper about working from home for them as a correspondent. I got a swift response, but not the one I'd imagined: "Oh, no, we can't do that. (Pause.) We're not going to pay to maintain an office." 

"But soon, nobody will need to go into an office anymore," I protested, trying to paper over my exasperation. "Soon, you'll able to work from anywhere -- desert island, middle of rural nowhere, the confines of your own home. Take your pick."

What the editor told me, I no longer recall. But her response sounded worthy of Homer Simpson's punchline: "The Internet? Is that thing still around?" 

Needless to say, the person who sparred with me over this issue is retired, like so many others in the news business who failed to appreciate the dawning of the new digital era. It reminds me of Metallica's fumbled response to the advent of Napster, with one major difference. Unlike Metallica, most ex-journalists won't have a rich back catalog to see them through their golden years. Such is life in today's technocracy, I suppose.

<"We Need You Back..."

Take II/The Reckoner>

<ii.>

As the above exchange suggests, The Office has always exerted a powerful, yet puzzling, gravitational pull on the American psyche. Otherwise, we'd hardly have a hit TV show named after it, would we? In many ways, "The Office" is simply the latest version of The Man In The Gray Flannel Suit (1956), or Mike Judge's comedy, Office Space (1999). 

But one message comes through loud and clear, in all of these Hollywood concoctions: The Office isn't a place you'd ever hang out willingly, if a different option presented itself. It's a whirlpool of bitterness and bitchiness, where it never takes long for hidden animosities to surface. Cue that shopworn punchline, "How boring is an office? You won't know till you try working in one."

That's why I piss myself laughing whenever some talking head waxes poetic about the camaraderie and collaboration that people are missing, by continuing to resist the Iron Nudge to return. If you read our Jobs To Nowhere series, you already know how hard I struggled to remember the good times at work. There were a few notable instances, but honestly, I struggled to recall most of them.

The Vox story (see below) makes some interesting points about the whole business. The general consensus suggests the whiff of a classic overdog power move: All right, you bastards. We know how much you've enjoyed working at home, but guess what? The party's over. Time to drag your asses back, so we can abuse you in person, all over again.

I've asked other people for some perspective about my predicament: "We've gotten by a whole year without having to rub shoulders. Why the rush?" The suggested motives I've heard range from control freak maneuvers ("Soon, you'll be coming in every day"), to financial ("They paid for all that office space, they want to get something out of it"), to resentment from above ("The heads figure, if they have to be there every day, so should you").

Still, what's the point of all that technology, if we can't capitalize on the flexibility ir promises? That's certainly true of cities like Los Angeles, where drivers spend roughly three hours a day schlepping back and forth to work. Who wants to endure that kind of insanity all over again?

And that's before we get to the other issue -- whether that green-eyed COVID monster's gearing up for another winter go-round. Time will tell soon enough there, obviously.

<"Be Seeing You..."/The Reckoner>

<iii.>

I just remember how I felt in Chicago, commuting forty-five minutes back and forth from the north suburbs, all to make my overdog bosses richer, as I scratched and scraped on $9.75 an hour. Without my freelance writing income, The Squawker and I would have struggled even more.

Words can't do justice to how much that commute curdled my stomach. For three years, Monday through Friday, I'd walk six blocks to a cattle call bus stop, where cigarette smoke and stale exhaust mingled with the gray and white snowflakes of pigeon shit that coated the roofs of the so-called bus shelters.

I don't recall feeling any camaraderie there, either. For the most part, my fellow travelers buried their noses in books and magazines, or stared blankly ahead, resigned to their fates.

I can't fake any warm and fuzzy feelings for those gauzy gray late '90s day, just as the Internet began rearranging the rhythm 'n' blues of our lives. Compare and contrast with today, when I began looking for remote jobs, and got 100 or so to come up, with little effort.

Guess what? Some outfits are so hot to get their hands on a warm body, they're offering $1,000 signing bonuses. In some cases, you can work remotely, even if your job happens to be in another state. Who wouldn't scoop up an option like that? 

Of course, the real reason behind this sudden snap of the leash is straightforward, as a media company vice president tells Vox. She too commutes three hours to work every day, while trying to raise a child as a single parent. Of course, these facts cut little ice with her bosses, who continue to work remotely, even as they demand everyone else return to the office:

“It’s unfair, but then management was always privileged,” she said, referring to the people above her. “This is just a new way of showing that privilege.”

Indeed, some animals are always more equal than others. What else is new? But with a current ratio of 1.7 per open jobs per worker, I'm not sure how many people feel inclined to listen. My current issue remains unresolved, but if I need any motivation, I only have to recall the general flow of events in Titanic -- the James Cameron version, that is.

Those who scrapped for a seat on the lifeboats, more often than not, secured a shot at survival. Those tophatted and tailcoated gentlemen who paused to knock back another cocktail, as they tut-tutted that unseemly rush to the exits, punched themselves a first-class ticket, straight to the bottom of the Atlantic.

Moral of the story? Not everything good comes to those who wait. As long as that 1:1.7 ratio hangs in our favor, make whatever moves you can. Because the way I feel, and the way things are going, it couldn't have happened to a "better" bunch of guys. --The Reckoner

Links To Go (Don't Hurry, Hurry,

'N' Worry Yourself Back To Work...)

Forbes: Bosses Are Winning 

The Battle To Get Workers Back...*:
https://www.forbes.com/sites/jackkelly/2022/09/20/bosses-are-winning-the-battle-to-get-workers-back-to-the-office/?sh=7cdef66b783e

The Guardian: "It's Just Not Worth It":
https://www.theguardian.com/business/2022/oct/01/back-to-office-say-bosses-staff-prefer-working-from-home

Vox: You're Going Back To The Office...:
https://www.vox.com/recode/2022/10/12/23400496/remote-work-from-home-office-boss-manager-hypocrisy

(*We'll see, guys, we'll see. I wouldn't get out the confetti just yet.)