Remote Work

10AM in Manhattan. I purposely kept my phone’s clock back in PST to trick the Slack App so that my coworkers think I’m still in Seattle and not playing Hooky in New York City for the weekend to play Smashy Bros with the rats and homeless.


Two clean-cut, long-sleeve buttoned shirt wearing, business-class looking 30s-40s white men have landed inches from my laptop to vaguely discuss their work through my noise-canceling headphones. Talking with their hands, maintaining steady eye contact, as far as I can tell in my periphery, taking coordinated sips of their 12 oz lattes. The focus drugs I took an hour ago are wearing off and it’s becoming harder to look at weekly sales report on the screen.

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