Last week, amid rising concerns about COVID-19, I was sick. It was no big deal, just a little stomach bug, highly unlikely to be contagious. But I worked from home for a week, out of prudence.
After a week of this, I decided to go in the office again. I had missed the double-monitor setup and the snack room. But the environment was totally changed from before.
On the train, I was paranoid that I would cough or sneeze, and people would shun me or worse. Well you know, it’s allergy season, lots of people are sneezing. And I have asthma, I cough year round. But imagine explaining that to randos on the train, and to be fair I wouldn’t trust a rando explaining the same to me either.
The office was mostly empty. I raided the snack room.
That afternoon, the company announced that it was recommending everyone work from home, for the next week at least. So I went home–after grabbing every perishable item in the fridge.
When I got home, there was a notice at the apartment saying they’re testing the fire alarms for two hours the next day.
Perhaps this is the least of the consequences of COVID-19, but it sure is a thing. Tech companies all over are telling their workers to stay home. My husband is working from home too. I don’t follow the news, but I’d guess that the number of telecommuters right now is historically unprecedented.
I suppose we are fortunate that we can work from home.