This week I got the excellent news that this is now my permanent work desk:
My company has decided to save itself a packet by no longer maintaining office space in Seattle. Permanently. My boss hastened to reassure me that my job remained safe, but all Seattle employees on our team would work remotely from here on out.
I’m glad to hear it, but not as unalloyed joyful as I expected. I kind of started looking forward to seeing my Seattle colleagues, even if we didn’t directly work together — sharing baked goods, writing the jokeboard, going for walks at lunchtime — although maybe not so much that final one, given the shocking rise in violent crime in the neighborhood around our office tower. I didn’t want to do it five days a week, but a couple days sounded like a good mental health break from being alone in my apartment.