Work From Home Request

One of my subordinates, Sean, has put in a formal work from home request. I don’t get it; we already let people work from home on Saturday and Sunday. Plus, we have free fruit (on Fridays) (except the persimmons) and a loud, rowdy, clique-y workforce who all look and sound and think the same, so who on earth would want to spend their days in their quiet home, alone, after not commuting? I needed to get to the bottom of this, mostly because it would be infinitely more pleasurable to find out Sean’s reasons why he needs to work from home and then say no.

First up, the meeting between me, Sheila - now Chief People Officer - I know; don’t - and HR. I don’t know the person’s name from HR. Hopefully they HR-ren’t too difficult to deal with. Haha. 

The Meeting

“Hi both,” said Sheila. “As you know, we’re here to talk about Sean and his request to work from home. He’s been through a lot, poor thing.”

“HR,” said the HR person. “I am in HR. I am in this meeting. Let us talk HR things.”

“Couldn’t agree more, HR,” said Sheila. Jesus, even she didn’t know their name, “Hal, why don't you start.” Deferring to the man in the meeting, I thought. Good. “Tell us about the situation with Sean.”

“Sure,” I said, reluctantly closing Candy Crush. “Sean is a trouble-maker. When we first hired him during the pandemic and everyone was working remotely, he was doing the work of two people, un-complainingly, and he was doing it at a very high standard. I barely even spoke to him - he’s kind of weird - but he made me look amazing. I gave him more and more responsibility without any salary increase and he just kept on producing. Sometimes, when he’d ask for help, I’d just ignore it; I knew he’d figure it out on his own and I’d still get to take the credit for his admittedly stellar work.

“Senior management asked about this and I said it was because of my management style. That’s when I got promoted. I told them Sean wouldn’t want to be promoted or even compensated with more money; he was fulfilled with where he was at. But then, when we all returned to the office and were finally able to take up commuting again, one, that was one of the best days of my life, and two, Sean struggled. He was still producing exceptionally but he was only doing the work of one person. One! After all we’d done for him? He also started to call in sick with laughable excuses:

“I’ve just been diagnosed with generalised anxiety disorder.”

“It turns out I’ve got agoraphobia but I’m working with a therapist to be able to manage it so I can return to the office at some point.”

“Algoraphobia? You’re scared of algorithms? Surely you need to come into the office to get away from them, then?! It was beyond a joke at this point.

“I also happen to know through my burner account that I made to look exactly like Sean’s brother that he’s recently gotten a new girlfriend. It was around the time the excuses started popping up. Convenient. So, I think the whole thing is a ruse. I think he wants to spend time with this new girlfriend of his - who isn’t even all that, by the way - but then again neither is Sean - at the expense of not only blindly following my orders but generating shareholder value. I don’t know which one makes me more mad. Personally, I recommend dismissal.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Hal,” said Sheila. She looked gravely concerned. I took pleasure in this. “I can tell you care deeply about this situation, and I know how much your team and this company mean to you. I also know you want to find the best solution for all of us. If only everyone who worked here was a bit more like you!”

“I agree in the most HR way possible,” said HR. “I am HR. This is a conversation.”

Sheila said something just as I completed another level of Candy Crush. I rose my head to acknowledge her but kept my eyes on the game. She continued: “Sean was productive working from home, correct?”

“Very,” I said. “He did the work of two people and he did it exceptionally. But I couldn’t see him doing the work. How do we know he wasn’t doing all that work in seven-and-a-half hours a day and skiving off for the last thirty minutes?”

“I hear you, Hal. So he was doing the work of not just one person, but two, and he was doing it extraordinarily, but because you couldn’t see him doing the work you’re worried he’s taking advantage of you?”

“Exactly,” I said. “And not just me, but the shareholders.”

“And you also said he’s mentioned anxiety and agoraphobia, is that right?”

“Yes,” I said, becoming annoyed at her potentially being on Sean’s side. “He even has doctor’s notes for both, as well as signed letters from two different psychologists. He’s quite the little forger, our Sean. Hence my recommendation to dismiss him.”

“I understand you’re worried about forgery, Hal,” Sheila replied. “Because of your concern we had the notes checked out. We spoke to the doctors and psychologists up and it all checks out. Sean has generalised anxiety disorder as well as agoraphobia. God, I feel for him,” she said, choking up. “All of this is probably making him even more anxious.” She dabbed her eyes pathetically.

“They’re real?” I said, pissed off. “How did he get real doctors to sign letters with the rubbish he’s spouting? We need to look deeper into this,” I said, eyes still on my game.

“I hear you, Hal. You don’t want to be taken advantage of and you don’t want the company to be taken advantage of. I admire that. But Sean really is struggling. He’s desperate to get better but he’s not there yet. It’s going to take some time.”

That little con artist, I thought. That’s exactly what he wants you to think, Sheila, you dull creature. I then thought about how well dressed Christian Bale was in American Psycho. That calmed me down.

“This is one of the HR things of all-time,” HR said.

“Absolutely,” said Sheila. “I’m glad we have a HR expert on hand, as well as such a dedicated manager,” she said, gesturing at me and smiling. How nauseating.

“So,” Sheila continued, “based on what I’ve heard today from you both, I recommend we let Sean work from home. I want us to put hi-”

“WHAT?” I burst out, though not before pausing my game. “Are you joking?”

“It’s an emotional time for us all, Hal, I know,” said Sheila. I went to protest, shook my head, and resumed my game, determined not to participate in the rest of the meeting. 

“We need to put Sean first. Not his work, him. His mental health. His humanity. And I know he produces exceptional work when he’s working from home but it’s not even about that. I just want him to be okay. So, Hal, I’d love for you and I to meet with him and let him know.” I shrugged my shoulders. I said nothing.

“HR,” said HR. “I am in HR. This is a HR matter. I forgot to take notes and so have contributed nothing.”

The Second Meeting

I had to take the rest of the day off last week after that mangled meeting. (I didn’t formally log it.) I can’t believe he’s getting away with this. If only he’d just put that much effort into coming into the office; then we’d have no problem and I’d know for sure he’s putting the shareholders in front of his mental health, something I’ve done with no ill effects for years now.

I logged into the Zoom but planned to stay on mute and play on my phone. I was going to keep my camera on so both Sheila and Sean could see my silent protest, as well as my general uninterest in both of them.

“Hi, Sean,” Sheila said. He was already on the call like a manipulative little teacher’s pet. “Before we get into anything else, how are you? And please, feel free to share as much or as little as you like.”

Sean cleared his throat annoyingly. “I’m okay thanks, Sheila.” Sheila looked at him with that look she gives people, the one that’s so genuine it makes your skin crawl, the one that makes weak people cry.

“Well, actually, I… no, I’m not doing great, to be honest,” he said. “I feel ridiculous. I feel like I should be better than this. I feel… ashamed. I know it’s not weak to ask for help - I know it’s the opposite of that - but I also can’t help but feel weak,” he said, his voice trembling. I had to give it to him; he was quite the actor.

“I understand,” said Sheila. “Even after everything I’ve been through and knowing in my bones and in my heart that asking for help and then accepting that help is one of the greatest ways to heal, I still have the tendency to do everything by myself. I still, incredibly, feel a tiny bit of shame when I ask for help. Can you believe it?”

Yes, I thought. But then again, Sheila, you are shameful.

“Thanks, Sheila. It means so much that you’re actually honest with us. The last Chief People Officer was like some kind of… I don’t know… machine man or somethi-”

“Hey!” I exclaimed. “Do not talk about Dave Whiteman like that. Ever. Do you understand?” I thought about reporting him to HR but then realised that meant speaking to HR.

“Oh no, Hal!” said Sheila. “You’re on mute!”

I wanted to flay her. Not only had my outburst not been heard; she was right. I unmuted myself.

“I said,” I said, “Do not talk about Dave Whiteman like that. Ever. Do you understand?”

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” said Sean. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to offend y-”

“Enough,” I said, ready to punch him. “See, Sheila? I don’t care about his extraordinary work output; he’s a disrespectful nincompoop, and not to mention a liar with all this mental health crap. It’s just an excuse for him to slack off. He barely deserves to work at this company, let alone work from home.”

“I know you care deeply about the company, Hal, and I know you care deeply for Sean. That’s why you’re feeling so emotional and it’s totally understandable. I’m feeling the same.”

I put myself back on mute. I couldn’t participate in this farce except to let Sheila and Sean know how much I disapproved of it.

“Anyway, on the topic of working from home, I actually have a little announcement to make - that is, if both of you can promise me you’ll keep it secret for a couple of days. And this won’t just impact you, Sean. It will impact the whole company.” I was intrigued but didn’t show it.

“Wow,” said Sean. “Yes, of course I’ll keep it a secret!”

“Excellent,” said Sheila. “Okay, here it is: from next week onwards, we’re implementing our flexible working policy. We’ve listened to you, the people, and you’ve requested this far more than any other benefit. I must admit, I had to fight to get it past The Board, but from now on you only need to come into the office once a quarter. The rest of the time, we trust you to work from anywhere in the world. Anywhere! How does that sound?”

I’d fallen off my chair and onto my knees. This must’ve been how Alexander the Great felt when he was told there were no more worlds to conquer, how Peter Griffin felt when he found out Lois had married Brian. Angry, confused, ripped open. How could they do this to me? After everything I’d done for them, for the shareholders, this is how they repay me? How am I supposed to micromanage? I mean, I can do it via Zoom but the visceral fear and contempt my lessers experience when I stand over them, watching, waiting, expecting, how will I recreate that? And the shareholders… how could they have agreed to this? I felt let down by them for the first time ever. My love for them fractured.

“Oh my god!” said Sean. “That’s amazing! I can’t believe it! I… I ju-”

He was tearing up. And so was I. At least, it felt that way. I try to never be too in touch with my emotions, apart from anger.

“I’m so glad you’re happy, Sean,” said Sheila. Her eyes were glistening. “I know you’ll thrive in this setup and we’re confident the rest of our people will, too. Hal, how are you feeling? What are you thinking?”

“I don’t get it,” I managed to say. “I just… I love my commute. To be able to wake up sickeningly early, rush to the train while sweating profusely, cram myself onto a carriage with hundreds of other warm and wet bodies, and then to be doing all of that in service of the shareholders… it was the closest I could get to understanding life. And now you’re taking that away from me. What am I supposed to do with all that free time? Meet someone, fall in love? How would the shareholders benefit from that?” I started to panic. I was hyperventilating. My heart was thumping. The room tipped and blurred.

“Hal!” Sheila shouted. Typical woman, overreacting. “Hal! Are you okay?”

I opened my eyes and I was on the floor. I felt dazed. I rolled onto my front, pushed myself onto my knees, and stood up in a shareholder-value maximising way. (I wasn’t going to let fainting out of panic stop me from living my values.) I sat back down, ran my hands through my balding but think-on-the-sides hair - I still liked Dave Whiteman’s style - and looked directly into the camera. I’d recovered enough to remember I will let absolutely nothing get in the way of serving the shareholders. A deep courage rose within me.

“Take it back,” I said, with the force of a thousand CEOs. “I don’t want to work flexibly. I want to commute twice a day, every day, and work in an actual office, where there are actual chairs, actual computers, actual people, actual impossible-to-work coffee machines, actual opportunities to sexually harass women, forcing them to resign en masse and thus raising the share price because of the reduction in salary expenditure. I want to be in the office. I have to be in the office.”

“Well, Hal, I have good news for you!” said Sheila. “You can still go into the office whenever you want! That’s exactly what flexible working means: choice. You can go in once a week, twice a week, five times a week, or once a quarter. It’s up to you.”

An excitement soared within me. The love repaired itself, Kintsugi style. I had to suppress a smile. I didn’t want Sheila to know how happy she’d just made me. It’s like Sun Tzu said: when you’re happy, show that you’re unhappy.

“And,” said Sheila, “I have even more good news. The feeling is that when we announce this publicly, our share price will rocket. Hal, I know that’s a big deal to you. How does that make you feel?”

I was close to malfunctioning. I felt tingly all over. I wanted to scream like a banshee. I had to dig my nails into my leg to stop me from such an outburst. For a second I actually thought I might arrive but I managed to make it pass.

“Good,” I said, still choked up, the word barely registering in the auditory realm. “Yes. Good.” My eyes were burning and my throat aching.

“Thank you so much, Sheila,” someone said. Sean, I guess. Forgot he was here. “I can’t even tell you how much this means to me. And thank you, Hal. I’ve always felt supported by you.”

“You shouldn’t have felt that way” I said. “If you’re going to be “working” from home I do think we should be on Zoom together all the time, just so you know I’m breathing down your neck and monitoring how many ‘bathroom breaks’ you take. I know you did excellent work during the pandemic when we weren’t even allowed to come into the office but I need to see you working. I need to know that you know I’m right there, always, so you feel pressure to perform while I make my way through Candy Crush. Okay?”

“You really are one of a kind, Hal!” Sheila said, smiling. I still had trouble taking compliments from Sheila, given I wasn’t sexually attracted to her.

“Okay, both,” said Sheila. “I think we’re done here. Exciting times ahead! Any questions?”

Sean went to speak but I interrupted him. “Yes,” I said. “Can I still come in on Saturdays? Will my key still work?

“You come in on Saturdays? And you have a key? I knew there was nobody like you! I’m actually not sure that’s legal, Hal, and I don’t want you to get in trouble, so le-”

A strange thought entered my head: what if Sheila becomes CEO one day? She’d already risen alarmingly quick through the ranks. I know it’s because she’s a woman and the diversity stuff is popular right now, but surely there’s a limit? Would the shareholders really allow a female CEO? Over me? Well, if they did, I suppose I could kill her.

Anyway, I’d left the Zoom. Of course I’d still be going in on Saturdays. It’s like that quote: Don’t ask for permission or forgiveness. Just do whatever you want without any regard for the consequences and everything will work out as long as you’re white.

If you read this far, you’re probably the only one.