A day in the life of the home office

This morning, I slept until about 9 a.m., put on my favorite sweatshirt, and had whole grain toast with chèvre and strawberry jam for breakfast in my living room. Then, for about two hours, I read and wrote e-mails, moderated my blog, networked online and poked around my social media feeds.

You guessed: I work at home. I'm one of those thousands of telecommuters whom Yahoo's new chief executive Marissa Mayer had in mind when she decreed recently that, come this summer, Yahoo employees will no longer be permitted to work from home.

A struggling company, Mayer explained, needs the cross-pollination of ideas that come with maximum face time in order to survive. Besides, she suggested, employees will be more productive under a supervisor's watchful eye.

My own experience suggests that I, at least, am more productive when I follow my own daily rhythms rather than someone else's.

On the typical day described above, at about 11 a.m. I transcribed a recorded interview. That task made me hungry, so I got out the jam again and made a PB&J sandwich. Then I sat down for about two hours and wrote a 1,200-word magazine feature about beekeeping.

I stretched, said a few words to my goldfish, and then took a long walk in the park across the road. When I returned, around 4 p.m., I did the dishes and then made a gigantic quiche with mushrooms, onions, zucchini, cheese and hash-brown crust.

While it cooked, I browsed a few of my favorite websites. Around 7 p.m. I cut myself a large wedge of my quiche, took a bite, and began typing these words.

Pregnant CEO

Does Marissa Mayer's decree herald the end of the flexible 21st-Century career, where your computer is as good as a co-worker and it's none of your boss's business whether you're still in your slippers and sky-blue camouflage-print bathrobe, as long as you get the job done?

Some commentators have criticized Mayer for her lack of vision. She herself made waves by becoming one of the first visibly pregnant CEOs of a major American company; she even built a nursery for the infant adjoining her office. Couldn't Mayer, of all people, understand that the 9-to-5 office is a thing of the past (especially for working mothers who can't afford to install a nursery in the office)?

Other pundits have supported Mayer's edict. The physical separation between home and work, they argue, fosters the mental separation between career and leisure that ensures a healthy and productive lifestyle. Employees are better motivated, better at brainstorming, and form more cohesive, dynamic networks when they're present in the same office, and work stays at work, instead of infecting the time that people should spend relaxing.

Quitting time?

"Rather than desperately pursuing any further mingling," writes Katie Roiphe in Slate, "the separation of work and life might in fact be something to strive for or long for, something rare and more precious than we think."

As a full-time freelance writer who works mostly from home, I can attest that the fuzziness of the barrier between work and home is one of the biggest demons of my day (and night). When there's no five o'clock exodus and commute, work hours can bleed effortlessly into time for rest and relaxation. Often I begin working around 9 a.m., only to discover before I know it that it's nine at night.

With my desk right there in my living room, I'm often hard put to justify stopping, especially since I work in a competitive field, where scoring just one more assignment may mean the difference between covering this week's bills or not.

But I've held regular 9-to-5 office jobs too. On balance, I think the benefits of my current flexible lifestyle win out— for me and for my editors. For freelancers like me, the bottom line is the quality and quantity of my work— not how many hours I spend in a company cubicle.

3 a.m. quiet

If I had had to sit in a company's office between nine and five today, could my brain have produced more than two articles? Maybe. But my editors are happy. And as an added bonus, this afternoon I felt the sun on my face for an hour or so before returning to work some more in the evening.

In my college years, I avoided registering for early-morning classes. Instead I sat up in the dorm lounge all night, writing papers or studying Latin and Hebrew in the glorious quiet of a Wednesday morning at 3 a.m. It worked for me.

I'm not surprised that many of the people weighing in on the home/office debate are writers— not just because commentary is their job, but also because the writer's creative and often solitary output is uniquely suited to a flexible work schedule.

Many would-be writers harbor romantic notions about what it means to be a writer, but I haven't heard much in these debates about the importance of grabbing what pleasure you can in a high-pressure career that sometimes feels like a rudderless grind.

From the frequent hits to your ego"“ rejections, critical editors, and niggling readers, not to mention the friends and relatives who never stop asking when you're going to get a "real" job— to the endless push to deliver one successful story after another, I need the many little boosts that a home work environment can offer.

Editor's compliment

This morning, an editor who was pleased with one of my articles remarked via e-mail that I'd make a great salaried reporter.

When I responded that I'm ready anytime, my editor backed off. Such an opportunity, she clarified, is a nice "daydream" to hope for.

At such times, there's nothing I need more than a chance to sleep the computer for a while and take a stroll on my own schedule.♦


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