新冠疫情期間迷失自我，四十歲母親渴望重返辦公室
Lindsey Stanberry
2022-07-06
穿著毛衣、牛仔褲，戴著口罩，我是新冠疫情期間典型的四十歲出頭的布魯克林媽媽。圖片來源：COURTESY OF LINDSEY STANBERRY
我有一個非常不受歡迎的觀點：我想回到辦公室。而且我希望所有人都回去。
我對認識的人、我愛的人，還有共事的人們直言這一觀點。多數人認為我瘋了，很多人不同意。他們驚訝地發現我跟特斯拉（Tesla）的埃隆·馬斯克、高盛集團（Goldman Sachs）的蘇德巍（David Solomon）持有相同的觀點。我想更讓人驚訝的是，在希望返回辦公室方面，我竟然如此孤獨。
我很清楚為什么其他人都不感興趣，有些借口合理，有些借口并不合理，比如新冠疫情還沒有結束；托兒服務很難預測；通勤狀況糟糕；對職場父母來說，去辦公室朝九晚五不可持續；寵物會想我們；工作服不舒服；還有居家辦公的效率更高。這只是部分例子。
我明白。但我就是不喜歡。我真的很想知道，是不是因為惰性太強，所以人們都不愿意再穿上筆挺的褲子恢復每天通勤。是的，我們剛花了兩年多的時間證明居家辦公可行，但這段時間并不正常。可以說，居家辦公是因為別無選擇。而且即便是再也不想踏進辦公室的人可能也會同意，過去兩年簡直糟透了。
我想回辦公室有一個非常私人的原因。很自私，但我不在乎。我覺得新冠疫情當中我失去了一部分自我，失去了作為忙碌、精力旺盛的編輯，還有紐約人的感覺，我曾經日程表滿滿，有大把理由穿上漂亮裙子和精致鞋子。我很擔心如果被迫一輩子居家辦公，可能再也找不到自我。
我很懷念新冠疫情前的生活，對過去做的事情感到驚訝。我是怎么做到的？我還能夠像以前一樣成功嗎？
2018年春季，我加入了媽媽跑步團，為參加布魯克林半程馬拉松（Brooklyn Half Marathon）而訓練。我有全職工作，還有一個兩歲的孩子，這似乎是鍛煉身體又結交新朋友的好機會。
第一次在展望公園（Prospect Park）跑步時，另一位媽媽問我：“你工作嗎？”
我工作嗎？哦，是的，我以前工作。在很多方面來說，我靠著工作界定自己。那年春季，我正在為寫的書做最后潤色，在Refinery29做全職編輯，管理一個作者小團隊，負責廣受歡迎的欄目《金錢日記》（Money Diaries）。當時我在工作。我喜歡工作。
2018年夏季，我還拼命擠出了一個月的假期，其中兩周跟孩子在科德角度假。可以休息一段時間當然很好，但當時的感覺并不像休假，主要是因為沒有全職托兒服務。兩周之后，我確信自己不適合當全職媽媽。雖然我很愛孩子，但蹣跚學步的孩子應該回去托兒所了。我要回辦公室。
當媽媽是一件有趣的事情。身份會改變，簡歷中多了一個描述：女性、朋友、妻子、女兒、作家、編輯、媽媽。雖然世界能夠以令人驚嘆的方式擴展，但也會變得更狹窄、更受管制。那一年，我為了證明自己可以做各種事情，證明其他身份不會因為身為母親而抹去，可能做得有點太多。
當然，如果沒有精心構建的支持網絡，我就不可能順利工作。我丈夫是個能干的父親，工作時間安排相對靈活。我母親住在附近，照顧孩子方面幫了很多忙。我們有很棒的托兒所，家庭保潔也很盡職。老板性格隨和，我們是朋友，她也是個母親。我的孩子很健康，我也很健康。一切都讓人興奮，哪怕忙得筋疲力盡。我很高興，至少在我記憶里如此。
然而到了2020年春季，新冠疫情逼著所有人回家，支持網絡瞬間崩潰。突然之間，丈夫和我要負責所有的育兒和家務，還要全職上班。我承擔了新工作，承擔很多責任。我負責一個年輕的記者團隊，團隊成員也在艱難度過可怕的時刻，每天還要報道全世界的劇烈變化。
當時我想，可以堅持這種工作狀態兩周讓自己適應。或者一個月。三個月也行。春去夏至，我們離開城市去海邊玩，三個人的生活小圈子迎來了我父母，終于有人幫忙照看孩子。那些日子過得很模糊，只記得沒完沒了的Zoom會議和編輯稿件，還要努力找新辦法陪孤獨的3歲孩子玩耍。做飯，看新聞，找些地方捐款以減輕負罪感，畢竟我很安全，有工作，在度假小鎮休息，周圍的世界似乎末日即將來臨。
2020年秋季，我第一次感覺自己在逐漸消失。大多數時間，我離開家步行20分鐘送孩子去學前班。戴著口罩，穿Everlane藍色基本款上衣，緊身牛仔褲，腳上是索康尼（Saucony）運動鞋，看起來是新冠疫情期間典型的四十歲出頭的布魯克林媽媽。我為自己精心打造的形象——陪著孩子和丈夫闖世界的雄心壯志的記者則逐漸消失。我不再覺得自己重要或特別，只覺得自己是飽受折磨的母親，努力照顧孩子、家務和工作。各種緩解辛勤工作的快樂，包括活動、下班后喝點酒、八卦還有偶爾的小心機也都消失了。
沒有戴口罩時，電腦屏幕上能夠看到自己的臉，因為每天我都要花四至六個小時打視頻電話。我看起來是這樣嗎。皺紋怎么變多了？為什么頭發看起來那樣？現實生活中我看起來這么累嗎？共事的其他編輯換全新發型和精致妝容出席會議時，我只是換了一件跟之前一天不同的毛衣。誰在乎呢？我不在意。
那一年的某個時候，人們都在興奮地預約疫苗，我希望這意味著新冠疫情的終結。還好2020年秋季我的孩子重返學校，但這并不意味著工作恢復正常。我想，有了疫苗也許終于能夠丟掉口罩，擺脫Zoom視頻會議。回到辦公室，恢復往日正常生活。我可以重建支持網絡，嘗試各種想做的事情。
但是夏季出現了德爾塔變種，口罩剛剛摘下又戴回臉上。Zoom會議還在繼續，屏幕上還是倒映著我悲傷、疲憊的臉，倒數每個工作日，一邊忍不住想當初我的雄心壯志都去了哪里。
過去九個月，我努力擺脫悲觀情緒，重新找回自我。換新工作有些幫助。我還加入了新的職場媽媽圈，她們都深諳過去兩年的痛苦。周末感覺越來越像“疫情之前”，有早午餐，也有生日聚會，然而工作時跟2020年秋季沒有什么不同。
對我來說，最大的問題就是想真正回到辦公室。
但沒有人想回去。推特（Twitter）上到處都是鼓吹居家工作好處多多的人，沒有人談論缺點。
我在家工作的日常是，早上5:30起床，趕在同事們上線Slack、新消息通知不斷響起前編一些稿件。我沖澡休息一下，然后送孩子上學，8:30前回到臥室，坐在小書桌旁匆忙地度過繁忙的工作日，中間停下上百次加熱咖啡，順便跟在客廳工作的丈夫閑聊。我愛他，但即使我們并肩工作了24個月，我相信他叫不出我所有同事的名字，也無法陪我認真聊天。
不開會的時候我環顧家中，眼前的一切都在提醒我自己不是完美的家庭主婦和母親。晾衣架上的衣服沒有收拾；一堆臟盤子要放進洗碗機；烤面包機的周圍都是面包屑；臟兮兮的浴室水槽需要清洗。下午5:30孩子放學回家時，我要盡可能逼自己離開筆記本電腦，專心過家庭生活。工作12個小時后，其他工作開始了。
啊！如果能夠去辦公室，我就有理由選套衣服，穿上衣柜里苦苦等待兩年的鞋子，涂上腮紅和睫毛膏，變身雄心勃勃的工作女孩，連明星梅蘭妮·格里菲斯都要羨慕的那種。是的，通勤有時很糟糕，但也是難得獨享的安靜時刻，可以閱讀電子郵件或書籍或思考，上班還能夠喝到新鮮的星巴克（Starbucks）咖啡，刷卡進辦公樓時有友好的保安打招呼說早上好。
最美好的日子里，其他人一些人會出現，我們能夠面對面開會，不用再登錄Zoom。我們可以聊一聊新上映的《壯志凌云》（Top Gun）續集，說話前再也不用擔心忘記取消靜音。我不用盯著筆記本電腦屏幕上觀察自己的反應。我能夠跟把我當成記者的人們共同工作。感覺真的很好。
哪怕最糟糕的時候，就算辦公室里沒有人來，就算我還是需要整天上Zoom開視頻會議，至少我也可以穿漂亮的衣服，而且不用在開會的間歇疊衣服。
在我看來，真正回到辦公室工作才意味著回歸正常。現在我對那一天會不會到來沒有什么把握。一些專家表示，勞動力市場太緊張。還有人說，別抱希望了。有些表示懷疑的同事們說，你想回辦公室只是因為你性格外向而且是管理者。也許這是部分原因。但我內心深處很清楚真相：只有身在辦公室，我才是最優秀的自己，胸懷大志、有趣而且才華橫溢，而不只是母親。如果辦公室沒有了，我是誰？說實話，我有點害怕知道。（財富中文網）
譯者：梁宇
審校：夏林
我有一個非常不受歡迎的觀點：我想回到辦公室。而且我希望所有人都回去。
我對認識的人、我愛的人，還有共事的人們直言這一觀點。多數人認為我瘋了，很多人不同意。他們驚訝地發現我跟特斯拉（Tesla）的埃隆·馬斯克、高盛集團（Goldman Sachs）的蘇德巍（David Solomon）持有相同的觀點。我想更讓人驚訝的是，在希望返回辦公室方面，我竟然如此孤獨。
我很清楚為什么其他人都不感興趣，有些借口合理，有些借口并不合理，比如新冠疫情還沒有結束；托兒服務很難預測；通勤狀況糟糕；對職場父母來說，去辦公室朝九晚五不可持續；寵物會想我們；工作服不舒服；還有居家辦公的效率更高。這只是部分例子。
我明白。但我就是不喜歡。我真的很想知道，是不是因為惰性太強，所以人們都不愿意再穿上筆挺的褲子恢復每天通勤。是的，我們剛花了兩年多的時間證明居家辦公可行，但這段時間并不正常。可以說，居家辦公是因為別無選擇。而且即便是再也不想踏進辦公室的人可能也會同意，過去兩年簡直糟透了。
我想回辦公室有一個非常私人的原因。很自私，但我不在乎。我覺得新冠疫情當中我失去了一部分自我，失去了作為忙碌、精力旺盛的編輯，還有紐約人的感覺，我曾經日程表滿滿，有大把理由穿上漂亮裙子和精致鞋子。我很擔心如果被迫一輩子居家辦公，可能再也找不到自我。
我很懷念新冠疫情前的生活，對過去做的事情感到驚訝。我是怎么做到的？我還能夠像以前一樣成功嗎？
2018年春季，我加入了媽媽跑步團，為參加布魯克林半程馬拉松（Brooklyn Half Marathon）而訓練。我有全職工作，還有一個兩歲的孩子，這似乎是鍛煉身體又結交新朋友的好機會。
第一次在展望公園（Prospect Park）跑步時，另一位媽媽問我：“你工作嗎？”
我工作嗎？哦，是的，我以前工作。在很多方面來說，我靠著工作界定自己。那年春季，我正在為寫的書做最后潤色，在Refinery29做全職編輯，管理一個作者小團隊，負責廣受歡迎的欄目《金錢日記》（Money Diaries）。當時我在工作。我喜歡工作。
2018年夏季，我還拼命擠出了一個月的假期，其中兩周跟孩子在科德角度假。可以休息一段時間當然很好，但當時的感覺并不像休假，主要是因為沒有全職托兒服務。兩周之后，我確信自己不適合當全職媽媽。雖然我很愛孩子，但蹣跚學步的孩子應該回去托兒所了。我要回辦公室。
當媽媽是一件有趣的事情。身份會改變，簡歷中多了一個描述：女性、朋友、妻子、女兒、作家、編輯、媽媽。雖然世界能夠以令人驚嘆的方式擴展，但也會變得更狹窄、更受管制。那一年，我為了證明自己可以做各種事情，證明其他身份不會因為身為母親而抹去，可能做得有點太多。
當然，如果沒有精心構建的支持網絡，我就不可能順利工作。我丈夫是個能干的父親，工作時間安排相對靈活。我母親住在附近，照顧孩子方面幫了很多忙。我們有很棒的托兒所，家庭保潔也很盡職。老板性格隨和，我們是朋友，她也是個母親。我的孩子很健康，我也很健康。一切都讓人興奮，哪怕忙得筋疲力盡。我很高興，至少在我記憶里如此。
然而到了2020年春季，新冠疫情逼著所有人回家，支持網絡瞬間崩潰。突然之間，丈夫和我要負責所有的育兒和家務，還要全職上班。我承擔了新工作，承擔很多責任。我負責一個年輕的記者團隊，團隊成員也在艱難度過可怕的時刻，每天還要報道全世界的劇烈變化。
當時我想，可以堅持這種工作狀態兩周讓自己適應。或者一個月。三個月也行。春去夏至，我們離開城市去海邊玩，三個人的生活小圈子迎來了我父母，終于有人幫忙照看孩子。那些日子過得很模糊，只記得沒完沒了的Zoom會議和編輯稿件，還要努力找新辦法陪孤獨的3歲孩子玩耍。做飯，看新聞，找些地方捐款以減輕負罪感，畢竟我很安全，有工作，在度假小鎮休息，周圍的世界似乎末日即將來臨。
2020年秋季，我第一次感覺自己在逐漸消失。大多數時間，我離開家步行20分鐘送孩子去學前班。戴著口罩，穿Everlane藍色基本款上衣，緊身牛仔褲，腳上是索康尼（Saucony）運動鞋，看起來是新冠疫情期間典型的四十歲出頭的布魯克林媽媽。我為自己精心打造的形象——陪著孩子和丈夫闖世界的雄心壯志的記者則逐漸消失。我不再覺得自己重要或特別，只覺得自己是飽受折磨的母親，努力照顧孩子、家務和工作。各種緩解辛勤工作的快樂，包括活動、下班后喝點酒、八卦還有偶爾的小心機也都消失了。
沒有戴口罩時，電腦屏幕上能夠看到自己的臉，因為每天我都要花四至六個小時打視頻電話。我看起來是這樣嗎。皺紋怎么變多了？為什么頭發看起來那樣？現實生活中我看起來這么累嗎？共事的其他編輯換全新發型和精致妝容出席會議時，我只是換了一件跟之前一天不同的毛衣。誰在乎呢？我不在意。
那一年的某個時候，人們都在興奮地預約疫苗，我希望這意味著新冠疫情的終結。還好2020年秋季我的孩子重返學校，但這并不意味著工作恢復正常。我想，有了疫苗也許終于能夠丟掉口罩，擺脫Zoom視頻會議。回到辦公室，恢復往日正常生活。我可以重建支持網絡，嘗試各種想做的事情。
但是夏季出現了德爾塔變種，口罩剛剛摘下又戴回臉上。Zoom會議還在繼續，屏幕上還是倒映著我悲傷、疲憊的臉，倒數每個工作日，一邊忍不住想當初我的雄心壯志都去了哪里。
過去九個月，我努力擺脫悲觀情緒，重新找回自我。換新工作有些幫助。我還加入了新的職場媽媽圈，她們都深諳過去兩年的痛苦。周末感覺越來越像“疫情之前”，有早午餐，也有生日聚會，然而工作時跟2020年秋季沒有什么不同。
對我來說，最大的問題就是想真正回到辦公室。
但沒有人想回去。推特（Twitter）上到處都是鼓吹居家工作好處多多的人，沒有人談論缺點。
我在家工作的日常是，早上5:30起床，趕在同事們上線Slack、新消息通知不斷響起前編一些稿件。我沖澡休息一下，然后送孩子上學，8:30前回到臥室，坐在小書桌旁匆忙地度過繁忙的工作日，中間停下上百次加熱咖啡，順便跟在客廳工作的丈夫閑聊。我愛他，但即使我們并肩工作了24個月，我相信他叫不出我所有同事的名字，也無法陪我認真聊天。
不開會的時候我環顧家中，眼前的一切都在提醒我自己不是完美的家庭主婦和母親。晾衣架上的衣服沒有收拾；一堆臟盤子要放進洗碗機；烤面包機的周圍都是面包屑；臟兮兮的浴室水槽需要清洗。下午5:30孩子放學回家時，我要盡可能逼自己離開筆記本電腦，專心過家庭生活。工作12個小時后，其他工作開始了。
啊！如果能夠去辦公室，我就有理由選套衣服，穿上衣柜里苦苦等待兩年的鞋子，涂上腮紅和睫毛膏，變身雄心勃勃的工作女孩，連明星梅蘭妮·格里菲斯都要羨慕的那種。是的，通勤有時很糟糕，但也是難得獨享的安靜時刻，可以閱讀電子郵件或書籍或思考，上班還能夠喝到新鮮的星巴克（Starbucks）咖啡，刷卡進辦公樓時有友好的保安打招呼說早上好。
最美好的日子里，其他人一些人會出現，我們能夠面對面開會，不用再登錄Zoom。我們可以聊一聊新上映的《壯志凌云》（Top Gun）續集，說話前再也不用擔心忘記取消靜音。我不用盯著筆記本電腦屏幕上觀察自己的反應。我能夠跟把我當成記者的人們共同工作。感覺真的很好。
哪怕最糟糕的時候，就算辦公室里沒有人來，就算我還是需要整天上Zoom開視頻會議，至少我也可以穿漂亮的衣服，而且不用在開會的間歇疊衣服。
在我看來，真正回到辦公室工作才意味著回歸正常。現在我對那一天會不會到來沒有什么把握。一些專家表示，勞動力市場太緊張。還有人說，別抱希望了。有些表示懷疑的同事們說，你想回辦公室只是因為你性格外向而且是管理者。也許這是部分原因。但我內心深處很清楚真相：只有身在辦公室，我才是最優秀的自己，胸懷大志、有趣而且才華橫溢，而不只是母親。如果辦公室沒有了，我是誰？說實話，我有點害怕知道。（財富中文網）
譯者：梁宇
審校：夏林
I am holding tight to a deeply unpopular opinion: I want to go back to the office. And I want everyone to come back with me.
I’m fairly vocal about this opinion with the people I know and love and work with. Most think I’m crazy and many disagree with me. They’re surprised to find me aligning myself with Elon Musk?and David Solomon. I guess I’m more surprised that I’m so alone in the desire to be back.
I’m well aware of all the reasons why no one else is interested—though some excuses are more valid than others: The pandemic isn’t over; childcare is unpredictable; the commute is terrible; a typical nine-to-five day at the office isn’t sustainable for working parents; the pets will miss us; work clothes are uncomfortable; and people are more productive at home—to name just a few.
I get it. But I don’t like it. And I can’t help but wonder if it’s inertia that’s keeping us all from putting on some hard pants and resuming our daily commutes. Yes, we just spent the last two-plus years proving that we could successfully work from home, but those were extraordinary years. Arguably, we had no other choice. Even those among us who never, ever want to step into an office again can likely agree that the last two years absolutely sucked.
There’s a deeply personal reason why I want to go back to the office. It’s selfish, but I don’t care. I feel like I lost a piece of my identity in the pandemic—the busy, thriving editor and New Yorker who had a packed calendar and plenty of reasons to throw on a dress and a cute pair of shoes. I’m worried that I won’t truly find myself again if I have to work from home for the rest of my life.
I think a lot about life before the pandemic, and I marvel at all I used to get done. How did I do it all? Will I ever be that successful again?
In the spring of 2018, I joined a moms running group in an effort to train for the Brooklyn Half Marathon. I had a full-time job and a 2-year-old, and it seemed like a good way to both exercise and make some new friends.
On the first run through Prospect Park, another mother asked me, “Do you work?”
Did I work? Oh yes, I worked. And in many ways, I was defined by that work. That spring I was putting the finishing touches on a book I was writing, as well as working full-time as an editor at Refinery29, managing a small team of writers, and running the wildly popular franchise Money Diaries. I worked. And I loved it.
In the summer of 2018, I also managed to squeeze in a monthlong sabbatical that included two weeks in Cape Cod with my kid. It was nice to have the time off, but it was by no means a vacation, especially all that time without full-time childcare. By the end of the two weeks, I was sure I was not fit to be a stay-at-home mom. As much as I loved my child, it was time for the toddler to go back to day care. And for me to go back to the office.
It’s a funny thing becoming a mother. Your identity changes, you add an additional descriptor to your bio: woman, friend, wife, daughter, writer, editor, mom. And while your world expands in so many amazing ways, it also becomes narrower, more regulated. I was probably overcompensating that year, to prove to myself that I could do it all, that the rest of my identity wouldn’t be erased now that I was also a mother.
Of course I wouldn’t have been able to work like this without the support network I carefully built around me. My husband is a capable dad with a somewhat flexible work schedule. My mother lived nearby and provided a huge amount of childcare. We had a great day care and a very good house cleaner. I had an accommodating boss who was also a friend and a mother. My child was healthy, and so was I. It was thrilling to do it all, even if it was exhausting. I was happy—at least that’s how I remember it.
Fast-forward to spring 2020, when the support network crumbled as the pandemic forced everyone home. Suddenly, my husband and I were doing all the childcare and the housework and still working full-time jobs. I was in a newish role that came with a lot of responsibilities. I had a team of young reporters who were also struggling to navigate a very scary time while showing up every day to report on the dramatic ways the world was changing.
I can make this work for two weeks to flatten the curve, I thought. Or a month. Or three. Spring dragged into summer, and we left the city for the beach, expanding our tiny circle of three to include my parents and finally getting some childcare help. Those days all blur together, a never-ending loop of Zoom meetings and editing and trying to find new ways to entertain a lonely 3-year-old. Cooking dinner, reading the news, deciding where to donate money to alleviate some of the guilt I felt being safe and employed and living in a vacation town while the world around us seemed to be ending.
It was the fall of 2020 when I first felt myself disappearing. Most days, I only left the house for the 20 minute walk to my kid’s pre-K. With a mask on, a basic blue Everlane anorak, skinny jeans, and Saucony sneakers, I was a generic version of a fortysomething Brooklyn mom. That persona I had so painstakingly crafted for myself—ambitious journalist ready to take on the world with child and husband in tow—was slowly eroding away. I didn’t feel important or special anymore. I felt like just another harried mom struggling to manage childcare, housework, and a job. All the things that made the hard work worthwhile—the events, the after-work drinks, the gossip, and occasional bit of intrigue—were gone.
When I wasn’t masked, my face was reflected back at me on my computer screen as I spent four, five, six hours a day on video calls. Is that how I really look, I wondered. Where did those wrinkles come from? Why does my hair look like that? And do I really look so tired in real life? While other editors I worked with showed up to meetings with fresh blowouts and full faces of makeup, I struggled to put on a different sweater from the one I wore the day before. Who cares? I did not.
Somewhere around the year mark, as we excitedly rushed to book vaccine appointments, I held out hope that this might be the end of the pandemic. Thankfully my child returned to school in fall 2020, but that didn’t mean work returned to normal. But with vaccines, I thought maybe we could lose the masks and quit the Zooms. Come back to the office and resume normal life. I could once again rebuild my support network and get back to trying to do it all.
But summer brought us the Delta variant, and just as soon as we took off our masks, we put them back on again. The Zooms continued with my sad, tired face reflected back at me, counting down the hours of each workday, wondering what had happened to my ambition.
Over the past nine months, I’ve fought so hard to shake off that gloom and find myself again. A new job helped some. Plus a new network of working-mom friends who understand the pains of the past two years. And while my weekends now feel more and more like “before times” with brunches and birthday parties, the workweek doesn’t feel much different than fall 2020.
For me, there’s a piece of the puzzle that’s outstanding—a true return to the office.
And yet no one else wants to go back. My Twitter feed is filled with people trumpeting all the benefits of working from home, but no one talks about the drawbacks.
On the days I work from home, I frequently start at 5:30 a.m. rushing to bang out some edits before my colleagues sign on and the Slack notifications pile up. I break for a shower and to take my kid to school, back by 8:30 to sit at my tiny desk in my bedroom and rush through a busy workday, pausing only to reheat my coffee for the hundredth time and make small talk with my husband, who works from the living room. I love him, but even after working side by side for 24 months, I’m sure he doesn’t know the names of all my coworkers and isn’t able to really engage in any meaningful gossip.
When I’m not in a meeting, I look around my apartment to see it crowded with examples of how I’m not a perfect homemaker and mother: clothes left on the drying rack that need to be put away; a pile of dirty plates that needs to be loaded into the dishwasher; crumbs around the toaster that need to be swept up; a dirty bathroom sink that needs to be scrubbed. When my kid arrives home at 5:30 p.m., I do my best to pull myself away from my laptop, to refocus on my homelife. After 12 hours of work, it’s time to do my other job.
But, oh! The days when I go to the office, I have an excuse to choose an outfit, to put on a pair of shoes that have been languishing in my closet for two years, to swipe on some blush and mascara, and be transformed into an ambitious working girl that Melanie Griffith would admire. Yes, the commute is sometimes terrible, but it’s also a rare quiet moment alone to read emails or a book or just think, and there’s fresh-brewed Starbucks on the other side and a friendly security guard to wish you good morning as you swipe your badge into the building.
On the best days, a few other people show up, and we get to have in-person meetings where we don’t have to log into Zoom. We can chitchat for a bit about the new Top Gun movie, and no one worries about trying to unmute before they speak. I don’t have to see my reactions reflected back to me on my laptop screen. I get a chance to spend time with people who see me as a journalist first. And it feels good.
Even on the worst days, when no one else comes in and I still have to Zoom all day, at least I’m wearing nice clothes, and I don’t feel compelled to fold laundry between meetings.
For me, a true return to the office would signal a return to normal. I’m not sure it will ever happen. The labor market is too tight, say some experts. That ship has sailed, say others. You only want to go back because you’re an extrovert and a manager, say my skeptical colleagues. Maybe that’s part of it. But in my heart, I know the truth: The office is a place where I’m my best self—ambitious and interesting and talented and more than just a mom. And if the office goes away, who am I? I’m kind of afraid to find out.
