DC’s snow response infrastructure is about as reliable as a Mormon sommelier. The mere threat of snow incites record viewing of local news broadcasts in the 1st to 6th grade demographic. So many kids are watching for school closures that they should ditch the Cialis ads and sell time to String Thing. Three inches, and everyone gets off.
At least that’s what girls tell me to make me feel better.
The US Government is almost certainly the largest individual employer here (I’m obviously not going to fact check, new media is all about being unfiltered and REAL). They are particularly lenient about giving employees leave for inclement weather, being denied operating funds, and “because it’s Friday”.
Often, these employees are expected to “telework”. It’s a great thing. I used to do it all the time in my federal government days. Now I am self-employed, and do it almost all the time. I’ve gotten used to it, but at first I didn’t know how to handle the novelty.
Teleworking is hailed as a great advance in convenience and efficiency. It certainly can be, but I think everyone does a handful of similar things in a work-from-home situation.
I’ll generally wake up and within ten minutes be making coffee in the kitchen. The coffee joins me at my desk, where I start to check e-mails and survey the things I need to do. If you’re anything like me, morning coffee leads to a semi-involuntary evacuation event.
But – I’m in the middle of an e-mail and I don’t want to lose my train of thought.
Bad word choice.
Actually, sublime word choice.
Rather than pick up where I left off, I’ll pick up the computer and bring it to the drop-off. A lot of important e-mails get written this way. Probably the best ones. Where do you think I’m writing this?
After that’s done I start doing actual work. It’s boring so I won’t discuss it. Seeking some sort of social contact, I’ll initiate ten chat windows and then ignore them.
“Dude I’m so bored, working from home”
“Nice man, I gotta finish something”
“I just farted so loud, wish someone was around to hear it”
“That’s a strange wish.”
As I even further flatten my pancake ass against a desk chair, wallowing in slovenliness, I somehow develop an appetite. For pornography. The gym’s at the office and I don’t know how else to work up a sweat.
“Finally finished what I was working on, how’s telework going?”
“Hey I’ll be back in 90 seconds, getting a quick workout in.”
At this point I’ve rid myself of several bodily products and I realize that it’d be smart to replace them. I’ll put some music on and make lunch.
Making a fresh lunch is the best part of teleworking. I used to work near Union Station, and my meal rotation was Chipotle, a hamburger place literally called “Flamers”, or Bojangles’ on the days when I really felt festive. There were healthy options. I ignored them.
“It’s 100 degrees outside and 80% humidity, so I’ll have a 10 piece bucket and an F-350 tank of Orange Slice. Where’s the defibrillator?”
At home, I’ll make a sweet lunch, generally of breakfast food. Four eggs and a twelve ounce steak. That kind of meal would knock you out of a coma. I’ll get pumped up and look for my “Insanity” DVDs until I remember that I used them as anti-rodent projectiles last summer. I settle for three pull-ups.
Once I’ve finished that epic swell session, I get back to work. I’ll devote a couple of hours a day to researching new developments in my field. So bored and without human contact, I’ll be reading a Supreme Court case and look up one of the judges.
“Hmmm.. Justice Kagan’s actually kind of hot.”
She isn’t. At least, she’s not my type.
Around 3:30 PM I’ll realize I haven’t bathed. Around 4:30 PM I will initiate positive steps towards bathing. At 4:45 PM, I will get in the shower. I’m dry and dressed at about 5:00 PM. I applaud myself on a day’s work, and wait for my neighbors to get home.