This morning I woke up to 16 inches of snow, or so the NY Weather Channel reported. Which meant for the first time in my young adult life, I got to work from home.
Now, to those that like to live life treading through the mundane, this would have seemed like any other winter day. But to me, as my mom put it, was lost in the romance.
I’ve never “worked” from home, mainly because I’m not sure how I could ever work from home while aiding in a pre-school class or sell retail items from the comforts of my bedroom. I’ve never had a job that entailed I could be useful towards the overall goal, while not being physically present. Thanks to VICE, this snow day that all changed.
Again, to the delighters of mundane, this actually would have seemed like a negative thing. If I had been working at Hollister or at my Pre-school on this Tuesday, I would have had a free day off rather than spending over 6 hours shifting around my room finding new places to get comfortable while going through reel after reel of footage.
Luckily, I don’t rejoice in the humdrum.
Instead, I saw today as the first marker in my life that indicates where I got paid for the power of my intellect.
Interning is not glamourous, by any means. Half the time I’m running around with a GPS praying my phone stays alive in the cold and the other half of the time is broken down between watching documentaries and scanning papers. But then there are those moments, those small moments, where the power of my brain and my ability to make it work faster, harder, and uniquely is what is in demand. Those moments where I can prove that I wasn’t hired to be a warm body, but rather to be a small ligament that adds to the overall function of the being – that adds motion.
Today I was the opposite of a warm body. While the other members of my team were tinkering away on their laptops, surely with coffee mugs in hand and conversations full of wit and intellect spoken at 90 mph, I was home.
I was sitting in my bed with my portable heater and cup of orange juice, completely absent.
Yet still, I was of use. I ran back and forth between cooking breakfast and checking my email updates, reading the chain of messages full of directions and requests and I was enchanted.
Maybe people who have worked from home hundreds of times no longer see any shimmer in what desk they sit at while doing the same tasks.
But I sit, day after day, watching documentary after documentary, speaking to journalist after journalist, whom we marvel at for being able to put themselves in all sorts of areas, and come out with something of use – something that teaches, helps, creates. And so, from my twin sized bed in a frozen over Queens, I will delight in the idea that, if even in a tiny miniscule way, today I was out of office and still brought about something of use, something that helps.
As a writer, I don’t think there is much more I could ask for.