I note, wearily, that the work culture wars grind on. We are in the midst of yet another push to get staff back in to the office, with Amazon, Morgan Stanley and Asda all desperately trying to stuff the human genie back into its cubicle bottle. Staff at the Office for National Statistics and the Land Registry, among others, have voted to strike to preserve their right to work from home (WFH). Stuart Rose, former CEO of M&S and until November executive chair of Asda, told Panorama that home work isn’t “proper work” and the Mail quotes a “Gen Z CEO” saying he is wrong. Can’t we all just get along?
One possible explanation for the continued conflict is that we have become strangers to each other. Absence made the heart grow more suspicious: our office-based overlords think we WFHers have become an army of side-hustling slackers. We, meanwhile, know them only by their diktats: to us they are as blankly remote and unrelatable as extras in Severance.
As a long-time home worker (I’ve barely left the house since 2011 – am I dressed right now? None of your business), I’m keen to bridge that gap. That is because fundamentally we’re the same: humans with hopes and dreams. We should be working together in harmony, albeit apart.
I don’t have many ideas on how to achieve this (listen, I’ve been flat out. I had to deal with a jumper I shrunk in the wash and fend off an overzealous electricity supplier), but one thing that comes to mind is language. Perhaps if we spoke the same one, we would understand each other better. I’m thinking, specifically, of corporate bullshit. You know – granularity, big data, delivering shareholder value. Could our WFH experiences enrich the linguistic landscape and give the office-based an insight into our lives? We have deliverables too, and not just from Evri. So I’ve imagineered an impactful glossary of WFH idioms that could constitute a paradigm shift and want to run it up the flagpole.
Bringing in the bins – being a team player. “I’ve got a lot of time for Salma. She consistently brings in the bins.”
Pants on the line – ducks in a row. “We really need to get our pants on the line for the pitch deck.”
Jiggling the mouse – slacking, from the technique for evading keystroke surveillance. “The client’s getting edgy. Stuart needs to stop jiggling the mouse and get his arse in gear.”
A drying day – an opportunity to be seized. “This could be such a drying day for the business development team, but only if they get their pants on the line.”
Leaving a parcel in the safe place – successfully delivering a project. “Fair play to Mo, I thought he was a bit of a mouse-jiggler, but he’s left the parcel in the safe place.”
Yoga with Adriene – calm, derived from the screen queen of the downward dog. “Q1 sales are looking a bit Yoga with Adriene.”
Putting on real trousers – bringing your A-game. “The CEO will be at the steering committee tomorrow, so we’ll need to put on our real trousers.”
Squirrel on the feeder – a minor problem. “I was just going through that spreadsheet and I spotted a few squirrels on the feeder.”
Worming the parrot – tackling a dreaded but necessary task. “Listen, we all hate compliance training, but sometimes you just have to worm the parrot.”
Clearing the crisper/culling the condiments – junior and senior layoffs respectively. “Blimey, I knew things were a bit Yoga with Adriene and they’d started clearing the crisper, but I didn’t realise they were culling the condiments!”
Cat on the stairs – an unexpected stumbling block. “Unless there’s a really big cat on the stairs, I think we can bring this in under budget.”
Emptying the dishwasher – taking one for the team. “I feel like no one’s acknowledging I really emptied the dishwasher for that P&L snafu.”
Hopefully, this will scare some culture war squirrels off the working-life feeders. No need to thank me: I’m always happy to bring in the bins.
Emma Beddington is a Guardian columnist
