There’s a way of answering the phone that sounds as though you weren’t just asleep, and after nearly eight years of working from home, I’ve mastered it. The affected tone in question is one imbued with a sort of casual brightness. Timing is key. When the phone goes, you’re OK to leave it for a few rings to foster the impression that you were too busy concentrating on your work to answer immediately; snatch it up too soon and your voice will sound as though it is still steeped in half-sleep, which tends to prompt the dreaded question: “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” This question is impossible to answer in a way that is not defensive.
Since the coronavirus outbreak has led more companies to bring in home-working, some – admittedly strange – people appear to be panicking about how they are going to cope away from the office. Social media abounds with well-meaning threads that sound as though they were written by head girls trapped in a Kafka novella. Get dressed as though you’re going to work, they say. Try not to take naps. Make sure you go for a walk. In the absence of a boss, they have actually made themselves a schedule. These people are amateurs who have been indoctrinated by advanced capitalism, and most of them are also American (when it comes to skiving off, continental Europe must always be your model). Do not listen to them. They have internalised their own oppression.
Listen to me: I’m very good at working from home. This is always put down to my natural temperament. “Oooh, I could never do that,” people invariably comment. “I’d get too bored/distracted/stir-crazy/lonely.” I try not to judge these people, but I do. You’d rather work in an office with a boss breathing down your neck, really? Your preferred environment is an open-plan hellscape devoid of quiet places to read or think over the din of people making small talk about biscuits, rather than your own kitchen where you can happily do the rap bit to Work From Home by Fifth Harmony (surely the only song in the history of humanity to employ the word “timesheet” as a metaphor for sexual congress) while dipping pickled gherkins into last week’s slightly fizzy hummus, before taking a luxurious afternoon bubble bath? Clearly you have Stockholm syndrome.
One thing you will learn when working from home is that you’ll be amazed what kinds of foods actually go together. Home-workers are born survivalists. We can create a snack out of almost anything in the fridge or cupboard if it means not having to go to the shop. While I’ve been writing this, I’ve been absentmindedly dipping cream crackers into a tub of Philadelphia. Later I’ll probably have some leftover anchovies on a crumpet, or a pear smeared in peanut butter. You know you’ve hit the jackpot, however, when it’s cold curry eaten barefoot straight from the fridge – for breakfast.
Also, get a slow cooker. You can have a delicious dinner ready for when your partner/children/flatmates return home with minimal effort, impressing them while aiding them in overlooking the full sink of washing up you simply didn’t get round to because you spent the afternoon watching a nature documentary about krill (all nature documentaries are ultimately about krill). Your family still, by the way, won’t believe that you have a real job. They never will. Accepting this now will save you a lot of strife in the long run, as will the fact that your parents will always phone you for “a natter” at 2pm under the assumption that you’re not busy. You will bond with them in new ways as a result.
Tedious bores will tell you that you need a designated workspace in order to work from home, but this shows a tragic lack of imagination. Why not take advantage of your entire living space? Answer some emails on the toilet, do some spreadsheets in bed, then hop over to the sofa for a bit of a change of scene. Regular trips to the kitchen for hot drinks and snacks help to mix it up a bit. If you’re lucky enough to be home-working in hot weather, invest in a wifi connection that reaches to the back garden or balcony. That way you can sunbathe while occasionally refreshing your email.
As for workwear: forget getting dressed properly, wear whatever feels good. Some veterans will advocate a full pyjama; that is their right. Personally I prefer a get-up that I refer to as “fool’s pyjamas”: leggings, slipper socks, some form of T-shirt, cardigan. It just about passes as being daywear when you venture to the shop or answer the door to accept your neighbours’ Amazon packages (it’s too late for me, but I cannot stress enough how you must absolutely never, ever agree to accept your neighbours’ parcels. Within a fortnight of working from home you will have become known as your neighbourhood’s local parcel depot). Consider investing in some tracksuit bottoms or lounge pants. If you manage to remember to brush your hair by lunchtime, then you’re basically winning. If you absolutely must, because you have a Skype meeting or something, you may get dressed from the waist up. Just make sure not to forget when you stand to fetch yourself a glass of water mid-meeting.
Self-care is important, and it is vital that home-workers and the self-employed remember that. Nap as much as you need, it acts as a sort of cognitive refresher. You could also probably stand to do some exercise. I like a nice lunchtime swim, an online yoga class, or a go on the exercise bike. Working from home provides an excellent opportunity to spend time on your hobbies, whether that is making your own chutney, practising guitar, or creating your own oatmeal face-masks. Remember that if you’re at the point where you are googling the weather, it’s probably time to go outside (besides, you’ll need to stock up, as when friends visit, it is only acceptable to ask them to bring you a total of three items, not your entire weekly shop). You have to leave the house sooner or later, if only to note that the world basically has nothing to offer, before you retreat again indoors. Welcome to a brave new world, my friends. All you need to do now is work out an acceptable time at which to start drinking.
• Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett is a Guardian columnist and author
