Reasons to love, and also hate, life at the office
By Chelsea Lowe, Globe Correspondent, 11/14/04
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Illustration/Anthony Schultz
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Four and a half years ago, I quit office life to become a full-time freelance writer.
It was a welcome change, way too long in coming, an escape from the drudgery of what I'd always perceived as desk-bound servitude.
When I finally broke free, I'd spent nearly a decade fund-raising (mostly telemarketing) for a not-for-profit corporation. I had also edited copy for a computer magazine, written ads at an agency, reported for daily newspapers, and held more menial jobs than I ever thought possible.
Not long ago, my guy asked me what I liked, and didn't, about office life.
Mostly, I'd hated it. But there were a few things I liked about the arrangement:
1) The people. Office camaraderie can be a wonderful thing. Most of my current friends were culled from one job or another. Come to think of it, the guy in my life for the last 15 years was, too.
2) A reason to dress nicely. Many freelance writers crow about showing up at their desks each morning in pajamas, but that would be too slobby for me. Call me outdated, but I rarely wear my current workplace standard -- jeans -- outdoors. On the other hand, if I wore a skirt today, who would care?
3) An audience for my witty comments. (This depends, of course, on your idea of ''witty.'' When a friend returned to work one Monday eager to tell co-workers about her weekend in Smuggler's Notch, someone asked where she had eaten. I suggested a fictitious deli called ''The Smuggler's Nosh.'')
All of the things I do well -- writing amusing ditties, singing, baking, making banter, remembering obscure lyrics -- could be done at, or brought to, an office. Few of those abilities serve me well at my desk at home. All my deficits -- including math, an inability to conceal melancholia, a distinct lack of political savvy, and the tendency to make unfortunate remarks -- are best practiced in solitude.
4) The money. Office jobs offer vacation days, paid holidays, health insurance, and a paycheck every week. A steady job is like a marriage vow: you're paid whether you're sick or well, distracted or focused, working hard or slacking off. Freelance work more closely resembles unrequited love: you can work hard all week and still come away with nothing to show for it (except maybe a broken heart).
5) Flirtation. Though not a skilled flirt myself, I could sense when others were flirting with me, and rather enjoyed the attention.
However, there were things I hated about office life:
1) The people. Office personalities can be detestable. Co-workers pitched shrieking tantrums, spread depressing news, too much personal information, brought animals to the office, tattled, gossiped, fought with one another (literally).
2) The similarity between offices and jails. Consider the space most offices provide. Apart from food service jobs, I've only worked in very small spaces in office parks or high-rises. All featured fluorescent lighting. Few offered windows. Many were cubicles.
3) Nutrition and fitness (or lack thereof). Not that I was tempted by meeting snacks or office party food or by any of the fast-food choices nearby. But I was too tired to cook at night, too busy getting ready for work to eat well in the mornings and, at the office, good nutrition always seemed to get away from me. For some reason, exercise often dwindles to virtually nothing in offices. I get more now, without a commute (possibly because I now have time to catch a morning exercise program on TV before heading off to my desk, some ten feet away).
4) Sharing space. I can't say I was pleased to find out co-workers were wearing my spare sweater and working in my office when I wasn't around. I never got used to communal bathrooms or kitchenettes, and avoided both.
5) Showing up on time. No matter when my start time was, it was nearly impossible to make it. This was true whether my workday began at 7 a.m. or 6 p.m.
6) Fitting into the prevailing corporate culture. Workers seem to fall into two categories: one group tries to please, mimicking the boss's style of dress, trying to share the boss's goals and concerns. The other, generally speaking, is more entertaining. Feigning an interest in, say, high technology did not come naturally to me.
7) Office politics. I felt fine about befriending workers who were unpopular with the boss. When a boss had an idea, I considered aloud both the pros and the cons. Not because I'm brave, mind you. I just have no political sense.
8) Commuting. I enjoy driving -- but break-ins in our employee parking lot (even though I was lucky enough not have become a victim) took the fun out of it. Still, I preferred my car to the bus.
9) Time wasting. The amount of time that gets wasted at work each day is stunning. I know, because I used to waste a lot of it
10) The work itself. It can be disagreeable, if not plain stupefying. It's simple human nature: If you don't value the work you do, you won't necessarily do a better-than-average job. Witness all those store clerks who treat customer complaints with an obvious lack of concern. Now, compare them with managers, who generally will at least offer sympathetic remarks.
As a writer, I'll spend hours going over the sound of a sentence, struggling over parentheses versus dashes. But when I worked at an ice cream parlor during college, I can't say I cared much if the customer didn't like his sundae.
I gave up a lot to work from home, but it's worth it. Icy roads, traffic jams and Boston drivers don't often figure into my work experience anymore. There's no one to think less of me if I cry. A security guard doesn't have to let me in if I want to work late or on Sunday. I can show up at my desk before I've showered or at noon, or not at all, and not receive a note from personnel.
Of course, if work -- or the lack of it -- stresses me out, I can't make an appointment with my employee assistance program.
If I have something to share -- a good hair day, a slice of homemade cake, a personal sorrow -- I can't. And, of course, other people's clever remarks are lost to me. There's no commiseration if an editor treats me badly.
Friends from my last job sometimes ask me if I miss it. The answer, of course, is no. I do miss the people, though. At least, some of them.
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