For the two years I spent trapped in a cubicle, I dreamed of working from home. It was the answer to all life’s problems. It was the holy grail. Until I got my wish, that is.
Two months into working from home, I was bored and lonely and completely unmotivated. I had no one to talk to, no one to laugh with, no one to argue with, and I was miserable. So I ate. And I ate. And I ate some more.
I had also just quit smoking, so eating was already a hobby/substitute. But loneliness has never been a factor so much since junior high.
It’s fair to say that working from home, without adult interaction, is close to equal torture as the office cubicle nightmare. After working from home for a year and a half, I ended up back in an office. I drive an hour each way. I lose two hours a day with the drive and spend more money on gas and lunches.
And yet, I enjoy my life more now than I did when I was all alone. In the past, my wife coming home for lunch was the highlight of my day. The second most exciting daily ritual was the visit from the cat. He’d come to the back door and whine until I let him in. On especially lonely days, I’d go wander by the back door ten or twenty times, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. Kitty.
These days, I’m considering a hybrid schedule. What about working from home half the time and the office the other half? A mix of human interaction and work from home convenience? Given the right position, I wouldn’t care about the drive time. Working from home compensates for a cruel boss. Working in the office compensates for talking to yourself. It’s a toss up.
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