The concern about what you’ll miss if you labor remotely

Labor Day for some reason became a line in the sand. Now that we are past it, many employers are facing a decision on remote work.

I know all the arguments, and you do too.

If we allow remote work, it will be the end of productivity. And possibly the end of what The New York Times recently called “squishy terms like ‘company culture.’” (It may be squishy, but it’s essential for the long term.)

If we don’t allow remote work, we are putting a hardship on modern families who need flexibility for things like childcare and who find the office a barrier to productivity.

I’m young enough to get that people have become more comfortable living life online. The idea of laws passed on this subject is laughable. Companies will adapt to the times, and engage employees, or they won’t. Employees will go to companies effective at fulfilling their missions and taking care of employees.

But I’m also old enough to tell you this story about Q.

It was funny, like The Office

When I was first hired out of college, Q (that’s what we called her) was my next-door neighbor at the office. These were in the days when you had dial-up modems for internet access, and you had to check with officemates before dialing in and kicking them off their sessions. Q and I would yell back and forth to find out our internet status … or check on a project … or tell a joke … or ask about lunch … or. …

The owner eventually would sigh, smile, walk down the hallway to one of our offices and call the other on speakerphone:

“Hello?”

“Mark … I bought a telephone system worth thousands of dollars. It actually has intercom ability. Let’s use the phone from now on.”

He was a patient man. There were so many shenanigans, and I won’t test your patience relating them all here. The company was full of bright, funny, imaginative characters. The writer P.G. Wodehouse started in a corporate job, and it was clear he never forgot his officemates. I feel the same way.

For about a year, Q and a mutual friend left the They Might Be Giants song “Minimum Wage” on my work voicemail after hours. I didn’t find out who it was until years later. Actually, there were a number of crank calls to each other, pretending to be difficult clients and so on.

I remember inheriting for office decor two statues of Japanese children. I named them Tito and Chloe, setting up museum placards in their honor. Someone kidnapped them, posting ransom demands and disturbing photos.

A few of us tried to institute No Knees Day, where we would try to make it through the day without bending knees and without explaining what we were doing.

There were internal newsletters filled with commentary on office gossip, ridiculous things a client had said and general absurdity. There were mix CDs with custom artwork–we were a PR firm with amazing in-house designers. There were gag gifts–so many gag gifts–at Christmas, running the range from a professional Elvis impersonator to a “bachelor’s crown.”

It was touching, like The Office

Q had drawn my name that year. The crown was addressed to Mark “I Am Human and I Need to Be Loved” Ramsay, and the card said I was only allowed to wear it if I stopped flirting with coworkers.

I was unaware I had been singing that Smiths song in the hallways, and I was unaware I had been flirting.

But she had made the correct observation, because I instinctively put the crown on and said, “Any of you ladies interested in resigning?”

That was the funny moment. Another time, it was more serious. I had Q read an email I received from a friend. I was flabbergasted: The friend wanted to cut off contact because she was “falling for me.” I hadn’t even made an advance! What did Q think?

Q put her hand on her hip, and in a very kind way, said, “Mark, you can be kind of a charmer.”

It had never dawned on me. And it was just the truth-telling I needed to change my behavior.

There were many other serious moments, some involving tears, that aren’t fit for public discussion. She was a good “sister,” and I always tried to return the favor.

I was thinking about all this as Labor Day approached, because I realized I had been wearing something that involved Q since the start of the pandemic.

My eyeglasses broke just before the lockdowns started. Since I haven’t been able to visit the optometrist, I am using older backup glasses. And Q helped me pick them out, years ago.

Can you picture that? Two young single people, needing help being adults. Can you come pick out glasses with me? I need somebody’s opinion.

And she, bless her heart, spent her evening doing just that.

There is a lot of trust built when you live much of your lives together.

Being remote vs. building trust

Yes, yes, I know you can work remotely. Much of my coaching work is done via phone. To many clients, it’s actually better that way.

And I transitioned to remote facilitation during the pandemic, to a lot of rave reviews from clients.

You know what my first remote gig was? Some leadership development workshops for an organization.

Q was its president. She trusted me.