新冠疫情期间迷失自我，四十岁母亲渴望重返办公室
我有一个非常不受欢迎的观点：我想回到办公室。而且我希望所有人都回去。
我对认识的人、我爱的人，还有共事的人们直言这一观点。多数人认为我疯了，很多人不同意。他们惊讶地发现我跟特斯拉（Tesla）的埃隆·马斯克、高盛集团（Goldman Sachs）的苏德巍（David Solomon）持有相同的观点。我想更让人惊讶的是，在希望返回办公室方面，我竟然如此孤独。
我很清楚为什么其他人都不感兴趣，有些借口合理，有些借口并不合理，比如新冠疫情还没有结束；托儿服务很难预测；通勤状况糟糕；对职场父母来说，去办公室朝九晚五不可持续；宠物会想我们；工作服不舒服；还有居家办公的效率更高。这只是部分例子。
我明白。但我就是不喜欢。我真的很想知道，是不是因为惰性太强，所以人们都不愿意再穿上笔挺的裤子恢复每天通勤。是的，我们刚花了两年多的时间证明居家办公可行，但这段时间并不正常。可以说，居家办公是因为别无选择。而且即便是再也不想踏进办公室的人可能也会同意，过去两年简直糟透了。
我想回办公室有一个非常私人的原因。很自私，但我不在乎。我觉得新冠疫情当中我失去了一部分自我，失去了作为忙碌、精力旺盛的编辑，还有纽约人的感觉，我曾经日程表满满，有大把理由穿上漂亮裙子和精致鞋子。我很担心如果被迫一辈子居家办公，可能再也找不到自我。
我很怀念新冠疫情前的生活，对过去做的事情感到惊讶。我是怎么做到的？我还能够像以前一样成功吗？
2018年春季，我加入了妈妈跑步团，为参加布鲁克林半程马拉松（Brooklyn Half Marathon）而训练。我有全职工作，还有一个两岁的孩子，这似乎是锻炼身体又结交新朋友的好机会。
第一次在展望公园（Prospect Park）跑步时，另一位妈妈问我：“你工作吗？”
我工作吗？哦，是的，我以前工作。在很多方面来说，我靠着工作界定自己。那年春季，我正在为写的书做最后润色，在Refinery29做全职编辑，管理一个作者小团队，负责广受欢迎的栏目《金钱日记》（Money Diaries）。当时我在工作。我喜欢工作。
2018年夏季，我还拼命挤出了一个月的假期，其中两周跟孩子在科德角度假。可以休息一段时间当然很好，但当时的感觉并不像休假，主要是因为没有全职托儿服务。两周之后，我确信自己不适合当全职妈妈。虽然我很爱孩子，但蹒跚学步的孩子应该回去托儿所了。我要回办公室。
当妈妈是一件有趣的事情。身份会改变，简历中多了一个描述：女性、朋友、妻子、女儿、作家、编辑、妈妈。虽然世界能够以令人惊叹的方式扩展，但也会变得更狭窄、更受管制。那一年，我为了证明自己可以做各种事情，证明其他身份不会因为身为母亲而抹去，可能做得有点太多。
当然，如果没有精心构建的支持网络，我就不可能顺利工作。我丈夫是个能干的父亲，工作时间安排相对灵活。我母亲住在附近，照顾孩子方面帮了很多忙。我们有很棒的托儿所，家庭保洁也很尽职。老板性格随和，我们是朋友，她也是个母亲。我的孩子很健康，我也很健康。一切都让人兴奋，哪怕忙得筋疲力尽。我很高兴，至少在我记忆里如此。
然而到了2020年春季，新冠疫情逼着所有人回家，支持网络瞬间崩溃。突然之间，丈夫和我要负责所有的育儿和家务，还要全职上班。我承担了新工作，承担很多责任。我负责一个年轻的记者团队，团队成员也在艰难度过可怕的时刻，每天还要报道全世界的剧烈变化。
当时我想，可以坚持这种工作状态两周让自己适应。或者一个月。三个月也行。春去夏至，我们离开城市去海边玩，三个人的生活小圈子迎来了我父母，终于有人帮忙照看孩子。那些日子过得很模糊，只记得没完没了的Zoom会议和编辑稿件，还要努力找新办法陪孤独的3岁孩子玩耍。做饭，看新闻，找些地方捐款以减轻负罪感，毕竟我很安全，有工作，在度假小镇休息，周围的世界似乎末日即将来临。
2020年秋季，我第一次感觉自己在逐渐消失。大多数时间，我离开家步行20分钟送孩子去学前班。戴着口罩，穿Everlane蓝色基本款上衣，紧身牛仔裤，脚上是索康尼（Saucony）运动鞋，看起来是新冠疫情期间典型的四十岁出头的布鲁克林妈妈。我为自己精心打造的形象——陪着孩子和丈夫闯世界的雄心壮志的记者则逐渐消失。我不再觉得自己重要或特别，只觉得自己是饱受折磨的母亲，努力照顾孩子、家务和工作。各种缓解辛勤工作的快乐，包括活动、下班后喝点酒、八卦还有偶尔的小心机也都消失了。
没有戴口罩时，电脑屏幕上能够看到自己的脸，因为每天我都要花四至六个小时打视频电话。我看起来是这样吗。皱纹怎么变多了？为什么头发看起来那样？现实生活中我看起来这么累吗？共事的其他编辑换全新发型和精致妆容出席会议时，我只是换了一件跟之前一天不同的毛衣。谁在乎呢？我不在意。
那一年的某个时候，人们都在兴奋地预约疫苗，我希望这意味着新冠疫情的终结。还好2020年秋季我的孩子重返学校，但这并不意味着工作恢复正常。我想，有了疫苗也许终于能够丢掉口罩，摆脱Zoom视频会议。回到办公室，恢复往日正常生活。我可以重建支持网络，尝试各种想做的事情。
但是夏季出现了德尔塔变种，口罩刚刚摘下又戴回脸上。Zoom会议还在继续，屏幕上还是倒映着我悲伤、疲惫的脸，倒数每个工作日，一边忍不住想当初我的雄心壮志都去了哪里。
过去九个月，我努力摆脱悲观情绪，重新找回自我。换新工作有些帮助。我还加入了新的职场妈妈圈，她们都深谙过去两年的痛苦。周末感觉越来越像“疫情之前”，有早午餐，也有生日聚会，然而工作时跟2020年秋季没有什么不同。
对我来说，最大的问题就是想真正回到办公室。
但没有人想回去。推特（Twitter）上到处都是鼓吹居家工作好处多多的人，没有人谈论缺点。
我在家工作的日常是，早上5:30起床，赶在同事们上线Slack、新消息通知不断响起前编一些稿件。我冲澡休息一下，然后送孩子上学，8:30前回到卧室，坐在小书桌旁匆忙地度过繁忙的工作日，中间停下上百次加热咖啡，顺便跟在客厅工作的丈夫闲聊。我爱他，但即使我们并肩工作了24个月，我相信他叫不出我所有同事的名字，也无法陪我认真聊天。
不开会的时候我环顾家中，眼前的一切都在提醒我自己不是完美的家庭主妇和母亲。晾衣架上的衣服没有收拾；一堆脏盘子要放进洗碗机；烤面包机的周围都是面包屑；脏兮兮的浴室水槽需要清洗。下午5:30孩子放学回家时，我要尽可能逼自己离开笔记本电脑，专心过家庭生活。工作12个小时后，其他工作开始了。
啊！如果能够去办公室，我就有理由选套衣服，穿上衣柜里苦苦等待两年的鞋子，涂上腮红和睫毛膏，变身雄心勃勃的工作女孩，连明星梅兰妮·格里菲斯都要羡慕的那种。是的，通勤有时很糟糕，但也是难得独享的安静时刻，可以阅读电子邮件或书籍或思考，上班还能够喝到新鲜的星巴克（Starbucks）咖啡，刷卡进办公楼时有友好的保安打招呼说早上好。
最美好的日子里，其他人一些人会出现，我们能够面对面开会，不用再登录Zoom。我们可以聊一聊新上映的《壮志凌云》（Top Gun）续集，说话前再也不用担心忘记取消静音。我不用盯着笔记本电脑屏幕上观察自己的反应。我能够跟把我当成记者的人们共同工作。感觉真的很好。
哪怕最糟糕的时候，就算办公室里没有人来，就算我还是需要整天上Zoom开视频会议，至少我也可以穿漂亮的衣服，而且不用在开会的间歇叠衣服。
在我看来，真正回到办公室工作才意味着回归正常。现在我对那一天会不会到来没有什么把握。一些专家表示，劳动力市场太紧张。还有人说，别抱希望了。有些表示怀疑的同事们说，你想回办公室只是因为你性格外向而且是管理者。也许这是部分原因。但我内心深处很清楚真相：只有身在办公室，我才是最优秀的自己，胸怀大志、有趣而且才华横溢，而不只是母亲。如果办公室没有了，我是谁？说实话，我有点害怕知道。（财富中文网）
译者：梁宇
审校：夏林
我有一个非常不受欢迎的观点：我想回到办公室。而且我希望所有人都回去。
我对认识的人、我爱的人，还有共事的人们直言这一观点。多数人认为我疯了，很多人不同意。他们惊讶地发现我跟特斯拉（Tesla）的埃隆·马斯克、高盛集团（Goldman Sachs）的苏德巍（David Solomon）持有相同的观点。我想更让人惊讶的是，在希望返回办公室方面，我竟然如此孤独。
我很清楚为什么其他人都不感兴趣，有些借口合理，有些借口并不合理，比如新冠疫情还没有结束；托儿服务很难预测；通勤状况糟糕；对职场父母来说，去办公室朝九晚五不可持续；宠物会想我们；工作服不舒服；还有居家办公的效率更高。这只是部分例子。
我明白。但我就是不喜欢。我真的很想知道，是不是因为惰性太强，所以人们都不愿意再穿上笔挺的裤子恢复每天通勤。是的，我们刚花了两年多的时间证明居家办公可行，但这段时间并不正常。可以说，居家办公是因为别无选择。而且即便是再也不想踏进办公室的人可能也会同意，过去两年简直糟透了。
我想回办公室有一个非常私人的原因。很自私，但我不在乎。我觉得新冠疫情当中我失去了一部分自我，失去了作为忙碌、精力旺盛的编辑，还有纽约人的感觉，我曾经日程表满满，有大把理由穿上漂亮裙子和精致鞋子。我很担心如果被迫一辈子居家办公，可能再也找不到自我。
我很怀念新冠疫情前的生活，对过去做的事情感到惊讶。我是怎么做到的？我还能够像以前一样成功吗？
2018年春季，我加入了妈妈跑步团，为参加布鲁克林半程马拉松（Brooklyn Half Marathon）而训练。我有全职工作，还有一个两岁的孩子，这似乎是锻炼身体又结交新朋友的好机会。
第一次在展望公园（Prospect Park）跑步时，另一位妈妈问我：“你工作吗？”
我工作吗？哦，是的，我以前工作。在很多方面来说，我靠着工作界定自己。那年春季，我正在为写的书做最后润色，在Refinery29做全职编辑，管理一个作者小团队，负责广受欢迎的栏目《金钱日记》（Money Diaries）。当时我在工作。我喜欢工作。
2018年夏季，我还拼命挤出了一个月的假期，其中两周跟孩子在科德角度假。可以休息一段时间当然很好，但当时的感觉并不像休假，主要是因为没有全职托儿服务。两周之后，我确信自己不适合当全职妈妈。虽然我很爱孩子，但蹒跚学步的孩子应该回去托儿所了。我要回办公室。
当妈妈是一件有趣的事情。身份会改变，简历中多了一个描述：女性、朋友、妻子、女儿、作家、编辑、妈妈。虽然世界能够以令人惊叹的方式扩展，但也会变得更狭窄、更受管制。那一年，我为了证明自己可以做各种事情，证明其他身份不会因为身为母亲而抹去，可能做得有点太多。
当然，如果没有精心构建的支持网络，我就不可能顺利工作。我丈夫是个能干的父亲，工作时间安排相对灵活。我母亲住在附近，照顾孩子方面帮了很多忙。我们有很棒的托儿所，家庭保洁也很尽职。老板性格随和，我们是朋友，她也是个母亲。我的孩子很健康，我也很健康。一切都让人兴奋，哪怕忙得筋疲力尽。我很高兴，至少在我记忆里如此。
然而到了2020年春季，新冠疫情逼着所有人回家，支持网络瞬间崩溃。突然之间，丈夫和我要负责所有的育儿和家务，还要全职上班。我承担了新工作，承担很多责任。我负责一个年轻的记者团队，团队成员也在艰难度过可怕的时刻，每天还要报道全世界的剧烈变化。
当时我想，可以坚持这种工作状态两周让自己适应。或者一个月。三个月也行。春去夏至，我们离开城市去海边玩，三个人的生活小圈子迎来了我父母，终于有人帮忙照看孩子。那些日子过得很模糊，只记得没完没了的Zoom会议和编辑稿件，还要努力找新办法陪孤独的3岁孩子玩耍。做饭，看新闻，找些地方捐款以减轻负罪感，毕竟我很安全，有工作，在度假小镇休息，周围的世界似乎末日即将来临。
2020年秋季，我第一次感觉自己在逐渐消失。大多数时间，我离开家步行20分钟送孩子去学前班。戴着口罩，穿Everlane蓝色基本款上衣，紧身牛仔裤，脚上是索康尼（Saucony）运动鞋，看起来是新冠疫情期间典型的四十岁出头的布鲁克林妈妈。我为自己精心打造的形象——陪着孩子和丈夫闯世界的雄心壮志的记者则逐渐消失。我不再觉得自己重要或特别，只觉得自己是饱受折磨的母亲，努力照顾孩子、家务和工作。各种缓解辛勤工作的快乐，包括活动、下班后喝点酒、八卦还有偶尔的小心机也都消失了。
没有戴口罩时，电脑屏幕上能够看到自己的脸，因为每天我都要花四至六个小时打视频电话。我看起来是这样吗。皱纹怎么变多了？为什么头发看起来那样？现实生活中我看起来这么累吗？共事的其他编辑换全新发型和精致妆容出席会议时，我只是换了一件跟之前一天不同的毛衣。谁在乎呢？我不在意。
那一年的某个时候，人们都在兴奋地预约疫苗，我希望这意味着新冠疫情的终结。还好2020年秋季我的孩子重返学校，但这并不意味着工作恢复正常。我想，有了疫苗也许终于能够丢掉口罩，摆脱Zoom视频会议。回到办公室，恢复往日正常生活。我可以重建支持网络，尝试各种想做的事情。
但是夏季出现了德尔塔变种，口罩刚刚摘下又戴回脸上。Zoom会议还在继续，屏幕上还是倒映着我悲伤、疲惫的脸，倒数每个工作日，一边忍不住想当初我的雄心壮志都去了哪里。
过去九个月，我努力摆脱悲观情绪，重新找回自我。换新工作有些帮助。我还加入了新的职场妈妈圈，她们都深谙过去两年的痛苦。周末感觉越来越像“疫情之前”，有早午餐，也有生日聚会，然而工作时跟2020年秋季没有什么不同。
对我来说，最大的问题就是想真正回到办公室。
但没有人想回去。推特（Twitter）上到处都是鼓吹居家工作好处多多的人，没有人谈论缺点。
我在家工作的日常是，早上5:30起床，赶在同事们上线Slack、新消息通知不断响起前编一些稿件。我冲澡休息一下，然后送孩子上学，8:30前回到卧室，坐在小书桌旁匆忙地度过繁忙的工作日，中间停下上百次加热咖啡，顺便跟在客厅工作的丈夫闲聊。我爱他，但即使我们并肩工作了24个月，我相信他叫不出我所有同事的名字，也无法陪我认真聊天。
不开会的时候我环顾家中，眼前的一切都在提醒我自己不是完美的家庭主妇和母亲。晾衣架上的衣服没有收拾；一堆脏盘子要放进洗碗机；烤面包机的周围都是面包屑；脏兮兮的浴室水槽需要清洗。下午5:30孩子放学回家时，我要尽可能逼自己离开笔记本电脑，专心过家庭生活。工作12个小时后，其他工作开始了。
啊！如果能够去办公室，我就有理由选套衣服，穿上衣柜里苦苦等待两年的鞋子，涂上腮红和睫毛膏，变身雄心勃勃的工作女孩，连明星梅兰妮·格里菲斯都要羡慕的那种。是的，通勤有时很糟糕，但也是难得独享的安静时刻，可以阅读电子邮件或书籍或思考，上班还能够喝到新鲜的星巴克（Starbucks）咖啡，刷卡进办公楼时有友好的保安打招呼说早上好。
最美好的日子里，其他人一些人会出现，我们能够面对面开会，不用再登录Zoom。我们可以聊一聊新上映的《壮志凌云》（Top Gun）续集，说话前再也不用担心忘记取消静音。我不用盯着笔记本电脑屏幕上观察自己的反应。我能够跟把我当成记者的人们共同工作。感觉真的很好。
哪怕最糟糕的时候，就算办公室里没有人来，就算我还是需要整天上Zoom开视频会议，至少我也可以穿漂亮的衣服，而且不用在开会的间歇叠衣服。
在我看来，真正回到办公室工作才意味着回归正常。现在我对那一天会不会到来没有什么把握。一些专家表示，劳动力市场太紧张。还有人说，别抱希望了。有些表示怀疑的同事们说，你想回办公室只是因为你性格外向而且是管理者。也许这是部分原因。但我内心深处很清楚真相：只有身在办公室，我才是最优秀的自己，胸怀大志、有趣而且才华横溢，而不只是母亲。如果办公室没有了，我是谁？说实话，我有点害怕知道。（财富中文网）
译者：梁宇
审校：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.
