We are of a certain age. Whenever we hear or read ‘Zoom’, our head sings ‘Oh-oh-ohho zoom, you chased the day away’.
We are of a certain age, and should know better.
We are of a certain age, and an equally poor employment status. Being positive we have not been sacked yet. Hurrah!
We are un-furloughed. We are remote. We are all remote. Whilst nature starts to revel in the joy of our absence, we work from our kitchen table from dawn till well into night. Then we lay in bed thinking about work, about hatred and knowing that -execrable as these days are – there is a high probability we will look back on them and – unbelievably – miss them.
This cannot be, and yet it is. Life in a nutshell.
Between worrying about work, and our government mandated exercise, we work.
One of the joys of work in these broken times is remote video conferencing. The company I still work for – just – uses the snoringly boring WebEx. The conferences I enjoy are oh oh ohoh zooom.
The absolute joy of peeking into other people’s living rooms, bedrooms and home office is the second* best thing about this whole damned pandemic. It’s such a telling glimpse. Your coworker who seems miserable is surrounded by photos of his kids. The ugly one does his hair and sits at an arranged angle in front of a tastefully arranged bookshelf, adored with mementos to both prove and impress.
Half of them we look at, at the exposed beams – at the gleaming kitchens, or the views of the vista of the back gardens – and think “how the hell do they afford that?”
Must be their partners, we decide. Yes, that’s it.
*Is anyone else dying to die of this thing? Imagine dying and it not being your fault. We genuinely cannot wait