It's Been 1 Year...

It was the first week of March and it was finally starting to warm up, at least to NYC standards. The air was still cool, but it was refreshing and no longer blistering. It wasn’t a burden to be out. Wy coworkers and I went to Zooba, an Egyptian restaurant in Nolita. The colorful storefront and neon signs inside contrasted the French fare we enjoyed a month prior in the West Village. Last month we were taking advantage of Restaurant Week, but this time we just wanted to go out. We laughed over work drama and the taste testing of the multitude of dipping sauces. Dukka fries? Sure. I remember we were hyper vigilant about washing our hands before sitting down and eating. I don’t think we would have cared as much if the news hadn’t said anything, but we were still enjoying ourselves. We were being careful. We continued our conversations over soft serve across the street before parting ways.

The next evening I found myself in an architecture studio catching up with a friend from school. It had only been less than a year from graduation, yet everything felt so different. I made a stop at the Blue Truck, picked up a platter (or two), and made my way over to the sorority house. I was alone for a bit, waiting for girls to pop in and out. I knew some, but not everyone. Don’t mind the alumna eating alone in the common room. Finally girls started coming down, giddy with big/little reveal baskets in their hands. I’m not sure if I miss the chaos of being surrounded by 30 other sorority girls. I was getting old. I became a great-great-grandbig that evening. I Ubered home because I had work the next morning and couldn’t bother with the light rail.

That next week, my coworkers and I had more dinner plans. We crowded around our friend’s desk as we waited for him to wrap up his day. We were early to dinner but that meant we had more of the place to ourselves. We did hotpot but everyone had their own individual pot of broth. That didn’t stop us from sharing what we could. Oh, yours is spicy? You have to try these fish cakes. Should we get another round? We had to see whose broth was better and with AYCE we did as much damage as we could. But everyone has a dessert stomach, right? We stopped over at Grace Street Cafe satisfied our sweet tooth as we ordered dessert to share. Mango Madness, Matcha Ice Cream Waffle, Milk Tea Boba toast. Maybe we didn’t have to order so much. This was the last time I did something normal.

By the next week (of March 16th), my office started emptying out. I didn’t want to accept it. People stopped coming in. I spent my mornings refreshing news articles and the Johns Hopkins dashboard. I didn’t want to give up seeing my coworkers. I didn’t want to give up my standing desk. Even if commuting was annoying some days, I didn’t want to give up the convenience of being in the city and going wherever I wanted, especially now that the weather was getting nicer. I started to pack up apprehensively as the desks emptied in the office. By that Wednesday, March 18th, I decided it was my last day in the office. No one else was coming in, so I guess I’ll stop too. By that Sunday, March 22nd, we were officially WFH — indefinitely.

I was eventually tasked to create work logs for the team, which eventually became obsolete. I would update the sheets for a couple of weeks…and months in advance. Oh we’ll be back by the summer. Let’s try to arrange a socially-distant team activity by the end of the summer. Maybe hiking? Can you believe it’s fall already? Remember planning the Halloween party? Oh, I guess we aren’t having a white elephant or holiday party.

I had new coworkers who started the first week of March last year. They just celebrated their one year work anniversary having only met the group in-person for 2 weeks at most. Some projects were halted. Some projects started and ended. New projects are still coming through. And we all somehow survived off of finicky Skype messages, Teams calls, and frequent email exchanges. We don’t use video often.

People say that the office is dead. Commuting is no more. We’re never going back. As much as I love rolling out of bed and into my “office” in one fell swoop, I’m tired. Telecommuting, WFH, whatever you want to call it has proved its pertinence and adaptability overnight, but it sounds silly to say that I’m burnt out from working in my living room. Simultaneously, I’m beyond grateful that my firm has been very accepting of WFH, despite the doubts the first couple months. Even site visits have been very accommodating. My office had a soft open back in August or September, but no one bothers. I feel like I’m living in an alternate reality when I hear some firms are making you go in.

I don’t think I have much to show for the year that has passed, but I’ve come to accept it. I guess I’m just trying to imagine what conversations are going to be like when I do catch up with people. Oh did you move back home? Did you bake anything? Did you watch Tiger King or WandaVision? When did your office reopen? My circle is slowly starting to get vaccinated and I hope it’s a light at the end of the tunnel. The days are getting longer again and warmer by the day — a sign of time passing. Somehow, everything feels like a blur. I’m lucky to be coming out of one year unscathed.