The Emotional Roller Coaster of Working From Home

Told through an R&B/Hip-Hop Playlist with Commentary

By Courtney Jordan

After a solid five years working every day in a traditional office environment, I’ve recently transitioned to a WFH situation. While I’m lucky enough to have an office in my apartment, this transition has taken me through an internal whiplash that I never anticipated. Some of the rumors are true: I wear slippers, I eat constantly, and my hours are more flexible. However, there were unexpected side effects of this environmental readjustment too: I miss my friends, I somehow work way more hours than I used to, and I don’t leave my house for days on end. The one thing I can say for sure that’s a massive improvement on my day-to-day life is that I can listen to whatever playlist I want, however loud I want — without judgement or the shame of not hearing someone politely knock on the wall of my cube to get my attention while I’m just trying to get hyped with Tyga. This practice has brought me down some work-day throwback black holes during which, somehow, within the mystic, elusive morning hours of my home office, I found my professional self again.

Stage One: Refrigerator Euphoria

Gone are the days of acceptable lunch breaks (e.g., “Is 11:15 too early?”). You know the best time of day to eat leftover Singapore rice noodles with a side of mini ice cream sandwiches? Any. Time. You. Want. What’s-her-face from across aisle isn’t going to stop by and say “That kind of day, huh?” Get lost, hater, I’m the high priestess of this food church and besides, the sandwiches are mini so its fine to eat two (cough, three). Too bad I can’t build a tan off bathing in the light of my Kenmore fridge.

Stage Two: Confusion Over Timelines

In a time in which everyone can see when you’re online or off (thanks, Skype for Business a.k.a. Big Brother), here’s a newsflash: no one cares if you log in by 8:30 a.m. This inability to understand that your day can start the second you wake up is a twisted mind game. I’ve taken to answering my most pressing emails in my jammies and then settling in with coffee for the remainder of my work. This change has me qualifying my work day based on accomplishments rather than quantifying the hours put in. So, yeah, I’m always on time.

Stage Three: Loneliness

If you’re anything like me, you “check in” with your work friends all day everyday. Working from home has me feeling more irrelevant than Tila Tequila. I can’t help wondering: What’s everybody wearing today? What did they order for lunch? Do they even remember me? Working from home feels, at times, like existing within a vacuum. No one’s here to laugh at my jokes, which I guess is fine, because it has in turn made me a much more prolific tweeter.

Stage Four: Grasping for normalcy.

If I had a dollar for every time someone suggested to me that I WFH in my normal business-casual outfits, I’d have so much money I wouldn’t even need to work anymore. The idea that dressing for work in your home office creates a sense of normalcy is effective for about 1 day until you realize no one can see you and you’re wasting outfits and time doing laundry. I feel psychotic sitting my apartment with a high-waisted skirt and block heels for absolutely no reason, like I got jilted on a blind date but am telling everyone I was wearing this outfit anyway. Being able to wear yoga pants is my definition of working smarter, not harder.

Stage Five: Embracing comfort alternatives

Here comes an embarrassing confession: back in the height of my nerdiness (it’s always 7th grade), I used to like to set up “homework stations” in my room that allowed me to mentally compartmentalize subjects by physical location. I would do math on the bed, English at my desk, social studies at the table, etc. Turns out, I still like this idea! I change locations around my apartment depending on the type of work I need to do. Embrace that chaise lounge option when you have do the annual sexual harassment tutorial training. Why not? Comfort is king — lean back.

Stage Six: Retreat from humanity.

After you’ve adjusted to being alone 24/7, a new sensation washes over you and you are reminded that hell is other people. You don’t need human interaction anymore and the thought of having to hold a light conversation gives you cold sweats of social anxiety. A phone rings and you practically jump out of your skin. Where days ago you were begging to hear someone’s voice, now you wish there were a six-foot-thick iron wall between you and the rest of the world. Readjusting to the outside world is like that first dip in the pool at the beginning of summer when the water is still ice cold — you have to ease in a little at a time while you stand in that exposed mummy pose covered in goosebumps.

Stage Seven: Existential Questioning

It’s the age-old question: If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, is my reflection of last night’s VMAs performances even relevant? When isolated in a home office, you become a faceless droid desperate for recognition on a individual level. Why don’t you say the things that you said to me yesterday? I just need someone to see me and say my name so I know I exist.

Stage Eight: Self-Reflection

It’s only a matter of time until you start looking at yourself on a microscopic level. Who am I without the office, without the color-coordinated desk swag, the candy bowl, the company issued office chair? Working from home lets your true colors shine through and this level of reflection is enlightening, albeit frightening at times. When the reflection of your weathered, wise face finally comes into focus you’ll know: you were right there all along.

Stage Nine: Taking Control

You know who the employee of the month in this office is? Me — every, single, month. You know who picks the music, the food, the decor, the vibe, and can close the door to her office whenever she pleases? This girl. Honing in your independence as a professional is empowering and finding the ability to push through boredom and social media temptations when nobody’s looking makes you a boss. You don’t have to like me, but you will respect me (me to stuffed animals).

Stage Ten: Spreading the word

At this point you’ve overcome your WFH identity crisis and you’re on the bandwagon, ready to brag and encourage others down the same path as you. When overhearing that another human also has a WFH situation you quickly respond with “It’s the best” like there was never another way. You now view your life in an ideal light — one in which you can answer emails from under your cheetah-print Snuggie whilst listening to Beyoncé reminding you that you don’t need to call into work ‘cos you the boss. You do, however, need to track that PTO, that’s no joke.