Out Of Office
On March 13, 2020, with a substantial stress lump in our throats, we looked around our office, told people to take their laptops home, “just in case”. We told our selves that “just in case” would only be maybe two weeks, possibly three. Everyone knows how it went from there. We all became floating heads on screens, safer in our own little bubbles.
For two and a half years after that, the chalkboard wall in the kitchen still featured inspirational quotes for Women’s Day, our last in-person celebration together. Many people’s desks were still spotted with pics of their kids and long-suffering plants. For two and a half years, our office served as a time capsule.
I won’t lie. I went through a mourning period for our beloved office. We put a non-trivial amount of time, energy and resources into making it amazing, a place where people would be comfortable and welcome. A handful of times during the pandemic, I’d run in to grab something or other for home, and I’d end up driving home with tears in my eyes. From our remote desks, we’d all talk about getting back, when it was safe, and the projected date crept further and further back until it just really didn’t make sense any more to make plans.
Geeze, this is sounding pretty grim, isn’t it? I’ll let you off the hook- I’m no longer all that upset about leaving our office. I don’t miss driving back and forth (and for the record, my commute was pretty short). I don’t miss packing a lunch, or wearing pants with zippers. I like having the dogs at my feet, taking walks when I need to, and being surrounded by all my loveable clutter.
That’s just the superficial stuff. As is the case with any major world-changing event, the way I see all kinds of things has been flipped over and reversed, and that includes office life.
I think I now know more about our team, our partners and our clients than I ever did when we were in person. Meeting remotely, I see little wee kid faces smiling into the background. Spouses and partners wave as they head to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Dogs and cats are perched nearby. Chiming in from home, we’re not on our best behaviour, scrubbed clean and buttoned up. We’re creatures with families and lives, hobbies, favourite lunches and interesting art. Sometimes I get a tour of someone’s latest renovation, or I get to listen to the birds in someone’s back yard. Ironically, seeing others work from home serves as a reminder that our team members have things to do, things they love that don’t involve work.
My view of our work itself has been given a reboot as well. When I taught in the classroom, I was keenly aware that there were some things we did because they were meaningful and enriching, and some things we did because they helped to pass the time. The phrase “busy work” still makes me cringe, because it denotes tasks given just because. I’m not a fan of just because, in any aspect of life. Bringing people back to the office in strange and less-than-safe circumstances feels like a whole lot of just because. We’ve accomplished so much, done so much good stuff without an office. We’ve shown up in so many ways without physically showing up. We’ve been more than just bodies in chairs, we’ve been minds engaged. That, to me, is work. I’m so grateful to be in an industry that’s allowed me the time and space I needed to rethink that.
Maybe, for too many of us, our physical workspace controls too much of the narrative. There are plenty of instances in which the where of work is key, things that can only happen in certain spaces, face-to-face. But as we’ve seen in the past two or so years, there are a surprising number of things that don’t have to be defined by the box that contains them. We used to brag about our coffee maker, our comfy couches, our big windows. These days, we prefer to dazzle people with our abilities, our accomplishments, and our sincere desire to help. Our team has continued to show up in so many ways, almost none of them involving having to physically show up.
And so, farewell to our office, to all of the spaces we’ve occupied over the past 16 years. Maybe someday we’ll once again have need of a spot to come together, but it won’t be the same, in a good way. We’re so much more than the building we put stuff in. We always were, and we just needed a reminder.
