Alone again, naturally.
The first thing you learn about the solo life, is that it's, well, solo.
When you work from home, there's no-one to grab mid-afternoon to make a quick run to the cafeteria with for a couple of curry-puffs and a coffee. When a client's frustrating you, there's no-one to yell over your partition at about how stupid they, and your job, are.
No-one mumbles "Good morning" half-asleep as they pass by your home office. Nobody asks to borrow your stapler.
A few months after leaving your job, you find yourself falling off people's radars. You no longer get the latest gossip. Your email address even starts fading off those few banal-chain-mail-mass-joke-shite-email-lists. You're secretly pleased, but at the same time, a little alarmed by your own non-existence.
But despite that you're getting disturbingly used to conversing with yourself, and have devised sneaky motivational self-talk methods to keep yourself awake in the post-lunch hours, life's strangely better.
You get everything done alot faster. And you can play whatever music you like, as loud as you like. You can even work with the TV on.
You take more breaks. You relish not having to share a printer. You recklessly leave your desk as messy as you please, without wondering if your "lack of self-discipline" will show up on this year's performance appraisal.
You stick half-nude pictures all over your wall, and you don't offend the office nun, because, haha, there are none.
You get used to smirking at your own jokes.
You don't have to share your stash of office snacks with anyone. You don't get caught up in mindless, time-wasting coversation over the water-cooler about so-and-so's daughter's exam results, or so-and-other-so's new car. Because, ta-da, there is no watercooler.
You put your feet up on your desk. Chew all the pens you need to when you're having a good think, without anyone muttering about your upbringing. Take off-days when you're sick, or when you're sick of work. You don't worry about colleagues eavesdropping on your phonecalls.
Life's all-around better, really.
Now, if only the taste of solitude in your mouth weren't so foul.
When you work from home, there's no-one to grab mid-afternoon to make a quick run to the cafeteria with for a couple of curry-puffs and a coffee. When a client's frustrating you, there's no-one to yell over your partition at about how stupid they, and your job, are.
No-one mumbles "Good morning" half-asleep as they pass by your home office. Nobody asks to borrow your stapler.
A few months after leaving your job, you find yourself falling off people's radars. You no longer get the latest gossip. Your email address even starts fading off those few banal-chain-mail-mass-joke-shite-email-lists. You're secretly pleased, but at the same time, a little alarmed by your own non-existence.
But despite that you're getting disturbingly used to conversing with yourself, and have devised sneaky motivational self-talk methods to keep yourself awake in the post-lunch hours, life's strangely better.
You get everything done alot faster. And you can play whatever music you like, as loud as you like. You can even work with the TV on.
You take more breaks. You relish not having to share a printer. You recklessly leave your desk as messy as you please, without wondering if your "lack of self-discipline" will show up on this year's performance appraisal.
You stick half-nude pictures all over your wall, and you don't offend the office nun, because, haha, there are none.
You get used to smirking at your own jokes.
You don't have to share your stash of office snacks with anyone. You don't get caught up in mindless, time-wasting coversation over the water-cooler about so-and-so's daughter's exam results, or so-and-other-so's new car. Because, ta-da, there is no watercooler.
You put your feet up on your desk. Chew all the pens you need to when you're having a good think, without anyone muttering about your upbringing. Take off-days when you're sick, or when you're sick of work. You don't worry about colleagues eavesdropping on your phonecalls.
Life's all-around better, really.
Now, if only the taste of solitude in your mouth weren't so foul.
posted by icing queen at 10:38 am
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