About ten years ago, I went into work late one morning after attending a funeral for the mother of a close friend. There was a note on my desk asking me to come to my boss’s office. That was the day I got laid off and the day that I started my new career—out of our basement. Everyone always says that having a baby changes your life and it does in truly profound and magical ways. Strangely enough, starting a career at home changes your life just as much but in very subtle and minute ways.
At first, working at home felt very much like cheating. How strange that I could advise a client while folding laundry or fire off an email wearing my favorite old flannel pajamas. Always good at multi-tasking, I found myself baking while editing and cleaning the bathroom while listening in on long, boring conference calls—just remember to mute before flushing.
There is a wonderful freedom in realizing that your livelihood does not depend on the whim of one boss. I discovered that independence brought with an exhilarating kind of power—the power to be truthful. It’s not that I made it a habit to lie to my former bosses, but we all know when our superiors want the truth and when they really just want our agreement. Working for myself allowed me to shed that false smile and tell the unvarnished truth. Some clients appreciated my honesty. Others did not, but I felt good about telling it anyway.
There is however, a dark side to working at home—both literally and figuratively. Like most people who work from home, my office is in the basement. It’s not a dungeon, but it’s not the cheeriest room in the house either. The windows are higher than usual and the sunlight is partially blocked by shrubs. The unnatural glow of my computer monitor gives the room an eerie quality and noises from outside are muffled by the cement foundation. This all lends to the feeling of isolation, which is intensified by the fact that most of my client contact occurs via phone and email. The landscapers and Comcast workers think I’m being nice when I bring them water bottles, but I am really just emerging from my cave for some much needed human contact.
Whenever I tell someone that I work from home, the inevitable response is, “You’re so lucky!” And, I am. My job allows me freedoms that few people can enjoy. I make my own hours so I am always the first to volunteer to chaperone field trips, help out at the book sale, or baby-sit for friends with daycare gaps.
I’ve learned that laundry really does smell like fresh air if you take the time to hang it outside. It turns out that shoveling snow really isn’t so bad when you aren’t in a hurry to beat the traffic. And even when it’s cold outside, it’s important to get outside and feel the sun on your face for at least fifteen minutes every day.
I’ve learned to notice the people around me who formerly operated in the shadows. My mailman is a really nice guy who gives dog treats to my puppy and remembers my daughter’s name. I never would have known him if I were working in a regular office setting.
I’ve learned the names of all the dogs that walk through my neighborhood. Their owners are always happy to stop and chat with the woman who squints at the sunlight that seems so bright compared to her sublevel workspace.
I’ve practiced small acts of kindness on poor, harried office workers. I’m the lady who lets you get in front of her in line at the post office. It really doesn’t matter if I am a few minutes longer at lunchtime, as long as I am home in time for the school bus.
