The other day, I was trying to decide whether I resent business travel less or more now that I’m working from home. Then I began to wonder when I became someone who would use the word “resent” in the same sentence as “travel.” I can remember when I was interviewing for the job at the last company I worked. My then boss-to-be told me the job would involve some travel and asked if that were okay. Okay? I wondered what kind of idiot would answer “no” to that question. I’d always dreamed of being one of those people with a corporate credit card, zipping around from one city to the next, racking up frequent flyer miles, and hanging out in airlines’ executive lounges.
Somehow, these business travel dreams had always been so bright. They’d never taken into account such things as missed flights due to blizzards, hotel rooms that are always stationed next to noisy elevators and ice machines (I’m convinced reservationists turn to each other as soon as they hang up the phone with me and say, “Emily’s coming to town. Quick, book up all rooms except the one next to the manic ice machine where the teenagers in town for the cheerleading contest plan to hang out all night giggling, screaming, and ‘practicing’”), dealing with exhibit booths that are nearly impossible to assemble or that arrive sans essential parts, or getting hopelessly sick and spending two days in a hotel room in San Diego wistfully looking out at the beautiful blue skies, bright sunshine, and palm trees. Deal with those sorts of things, and it doesn’t take too long before “resent” becomes an appropriate verb.
I've come to the conclusion, though, that I actually resent it less now that I’m working from home. It always seems like such an effort to get away and to leave the piles of manuscript pages all by themselves with no one to care for them. But then how nice it is not having to worry about the broken dishwasher that needs fixing; the laundry that’s engaging in it’s favorite pastime of piling up to the ceiling; the bills that act like boomerangs, reappearing the minute the check is mailed; the car whose engine warning light has decided to make a regular appearance; and the peach-colored carpets that are in such need of cleaning, your neighbors have been commenting on how they love that shade of brown you’ve chosen for the living room. When you work from home, and don’t have an office to escape to everyday, these things sit around, each about the size of Jaba the Hut, glaring at you with their milky eyes. How nice just to be able to shut the door in their faces and take off for a few days, as you have far-more important things to do halfway across the country.
I think I’m going to have to come up with another appropriate verb. Possibly “relish?”
4 comments:
I do know just what you mean (although I'm less keen intrinsically on the notion of travel). I always consider it a chance for an indulgent break from domestic routine, but then the lack of creature comforts sometimes cancels out the sense of freedom. Still, you're quite right, shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, as we say.
I used to dream about travels too. Now, even for vacations, I prefer to avoid going too far. If I know someone at the other end, I may make an effort, but otherwise I'd rather stay at home.
Business trips I'd avoid altogether if I had an option. The only way they could become somewhat more appealing is if they involved long train trips in first class with WiFi connection and a good book. But I doubt my boss will let me take a train to Amsterdam (a 15-hour journey involving a sleeper-car on the Paris stretch) when there is a daily direct return flight to and back.
Mandarine, isn't it so annoying that companies all focus on the little equation time=money? We should have lived in an era in which commercial airline travel didn't exist, and all business travel was done by train.
In fact, a lot of my colleagues acknowledge that long business flights give them unique opportunities to focus on specific subjects and come out with brilliant ideas. Favoring trains over airplanes for short hops would certainly boost the intellectual value of the shorter trips.
I find I am very productive in my daily 2h train commute, when there is nothing else I can do but work (no laundry, no mail, no colleagues).
Somehow, if I telecommute one day, I will have to lock myself up in a bare closet with my laptop (or even just pen and paper) for a couple of hours each day, just to recreate the train working atmosphere.
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