"Work" from home
I was started working for a small DC firm on October 1st. Six weeks before a woman had called me up out of the blue. She said that she was writing a proposal for a contract at the SEC and asked if I could use my resume. Sure, I said. Fine. At that moment I was largely spending my days at work arguing with people about politics online and schlepping over an hour each to do so. So, yes, fine. List me as a “resource” on your “proposal.”
Then I asked her how much the gig would be paid. She told me a salary that was 30% more than I had been making. Now she had my attention. Apparently I had hung around at that dismal job at the FDIC long enough for someone to decide to slap “senior” before my title. Great. Then she said the magic words: “And it’s a work from home job. I hope that fits your work style.” I said something bland about “enjoying the flexibility of work from home opportunities” while I pumped my fists in the air like a frat boy at a strip club.
So on the first I came into the company’s little office to sign some paperwork, and then learned that the SEC was still figuring out the work tasks. I was advised to go home and “review the SEC website.” And for a day or two I dutifully read the website, writing down a list of acronyms that honestly leave me only slightly better informed about that the hell I would be doing.
And since then? Quite honestly: nothing. And I mean, NOTHING. OK, I’ve practiced banjo a little, did some sporadic reading. Took long lunches. Made nice healthy meals for my lady to come home too. I ran some errands. Tool long walks around the neighborhood. Puttered around the yard a bit. Today I finished reading A Moveable Feast for a book club I started, Hemingway’s take at the very end of his life on his experiences as a writer in Paris. It made me want to write more and drink more, and since life is a series of compromises I choose the drinking path-walking down to the fantastic restaurant/bar in Hyattsville called Franklins. But in terms of productive, useful work? Zilch.
I look at my calendar for next week and on Tuesday there is a meeting with the clients. The meeting is like an ugly birthmark on my unblemished calendar. I know these clients are going to be a pain and I know they’re going to want something for the money they’re paying me. My idyll is coming to an end. But my doing nothing at the FDIC was exhausting, and I feel like it was good to balance it with a different flavor of inertia.
Then I asked her how much the gig would be paid. She told me a salary that was 30% more than I had been making. Now she had my attention. Apparently I had hung around at that dismal job at the FDIC long enough for someone to decide to slap “senior” before my title. Great. Then she said the magic words: “And it’s a work from home job. I hope that fits your work style.” I said something bland about “enjoying the flexibility of work from home opportunities” while I pumped my fists in the air like a frat boy at a strip club.
So on the first I came into the company’s little office to sign some paperwork, and then learned that the SEC was still figuring out the work tasks. I was advised to go home and “review the SEC website.” And for a day or two I dutifully read the website, writing down a list of acronyms that honestly leave me only slightly better informed about that the hell I would be doing.
And since then? Quite honestly: nothing. And I mean, NOTHING. OK, I’ve practiced banjo a little, did some sporadic reading. Took long lunches. Made nice healthy meals for my lady to come home too. I ran some errands. Tool long walks around the neighborhood. Puttered around the yard a bit. Today I finished reading A Moveable Feast for a book club I started, Hemingway’s take at the very end of his life on his experiences as a writer in Paris. It made me want to write more and drink more, and since life is a series of compromises I choose the drinking path-walking down to the fantastic restaurant/bar in Hyattsville called Franklins. But in terms of productive, useful work? Zilch.
I look at my calendar for next week and on Tuesday there is a meeting with the clients. The meeting is like an ugly birthmark on my unblemished calendar. I know these clients are going to be a pain and I know they’re going to want something for the money they’re paying me. My idyll is coming to an end. But my doing nothing at the FDIC was exhausting, and I feel like it was good to balance it with a different flavor of inertia.