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“I am not okay…” — began my cry out for help on a Friday, after a restless night, due to an anxiety-inducing NY Times article about Elmhurst hospital. A hospital, which I walked by daily, a hospital where I got stitches after smashing my forehead in 8th grade, and the very same hospital my sister has worked at for the past two decades. COVID-19’s epicenter had shifted from Italy, across the pond to my old stomping ground, New York City.

With the (remote) workday ahead of me, I struggled to communicate how I was feeling to my team in words remotely. With 90% of communication being non-verbal, the usual body language cues are more easily missed working remotely. I had found it hard to express how I was feeling on occasions before and longed for a way to make it okay to do so in a casual way. …


Lubos Michalic

Engineer, Maker, Cyclist

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