fiction | Susan's Scribblings the Blog

Just when I was starting to truly feel comfortable working from home and had figured that, after nearly six years of it, I would not be going back to the office, I was called back to the office. We are working under a hybrid schedule a few days a week, and then we also work from home.

This meant much more than just readjusting to the workplace environment. There was now the issue of resuming expenses for transportation in terms of bridge tolls, gas and parking. Meal planning is another animal altogether, and a topic for another time.

I’m using a different bridge to get to work now, and I fill my tank more frequently. The mileage didn’t change much (about 11 miles), but now I know my car won’t last me as far into retirement. The major highways are brutal proving grounds for motorists, where speed limits are posted but are actually based on a mass-approved code of conduct which is considerably higher. In this world, everybody stays in their space. One doesn’t tailgate too close or lag too far behind. Somebody zooming past and crossing three lanes at 90 is speeding, and nobody likes that.

At least the parking is subsidized, and of my three location choices I may have made the wisest one. First, it’s a covered garage and not an open parking lot (I avoid needing to scrape ice or remove snow, which was a plus during the extreme weather). Second, it’s a short but much-needed walk. Third, it’s well-tended and feels safe.

Over the years, my memories of work and my life (which, let’s face it, are interchangeable) have been based upon where my workspace was located. Let me explain.

In the early years, I worked in the windowless basement, where our small contact center was among three dark central call-taking departments. We shared space with IT and the mailroom, which still had a huge shredder the size of an industrial washing machine. My next big leap was when call processing was moved to an upper floor, and we received cubicles with orange burlap walls. The nearest window for me was yards away.

We then moved to a secondary building, and I could push my chair away from my desk, look around the cubicle wall (which was now a neutral grey) and see a window. After that, I transferred to a different building, and the cubicle walls partially hid the windows, but I was against those walls and saw the outside world readily.

At last, I was sent to an office in which I had a large cubicle with several windows directly behind me. I saw sunlight and approaching rain with equal joy. Then that building was shut down in 2020, and we began remote work from home.

Now I have a large cubicle again, but the windows are steps away for those of us in the inner circle. The managers have the window offices, which is fair.

However, the building isn’t filled with the activity of six years ago. In fact, if there are 30 people on my floor, I think we have a crowd. The last day in the building each week can almost always be mistaken for a Friday, yet there is still work from home to do. It’s an effort to reach what will be the new normal, but it’s good to have other human beings nearby again. When working at home feels like being a caretaker in a graveyard, with the other empty homes on the block silent as tombstones, it helps to know there is a journey which will end with something resembling what we used to know.

I don’t speed to get there, but I anticipate it every time.

Some people take on a variety of responsibility, or a lack of it, when they decide to become “influencers.” There are countless people boasting that title on social media, and not all of them are anywhere near as popular as our celebrities or politicians.

For those not in the loop, an influencer is somebody who posts content on public forums in an effort to draw a particular audience and/or steer those viewers toward a particular trend or behavior, or follow them as they exhibit those same ideals. The influencer stands in front of their cell phone in Selfie mode and uses the world around them as their stage or soapbox through which they tout their agenda.

Recently an influencer named Sam (possibly short for Samantha) Jones filmed an interaction she initiated between a mother wombat with its young and herself. She picked up the infant joey and ran with it, exclaiming, “I caught a baby wombat!” The distressed mother, naturally, gave chase, and Sam’s camera person (we’re unsure if she merited the extra person or it’s a friend or relative) is heard saying, “. . . .the mother (is) chasing after her.” Sam then returned across the road and released the joey to reunite with the mother.

She has since issued a statement saying that she was actually rescuing the joey and mother from the road to avoid being hit by passing cars, none of which is corroborated in the way she was acting in the video. No words or actions from her captured on camera indicated she was on any type of rescue mission other than that of her popularity numbers. She quickly left Australia after overwhelming backlash and negative publicity from people around the world.

It sounds like she was more of an influencer for bad than good.

Her misbehavior has added another checkmark in the negative column in the eyes of the world, as the reputation of Americans in general has been in decline. Our snootiness and entitlement agenda, as well as our lack of common courtesy, is making our appearance in many countries akin to an invasion of locusts.

Our freedoms, so flippantly taken for granted, are often well beyond what other countries tolerate, which is why tourists from America are so easily recognized in the wilds of travelers’ meccas everywhere. We don’t understand courtesy, dress codes, pedestrian rules, restaurant etiquette, or even how to treat employees at service facilities like actual human beings. We choose instead to be blissfully ignorant and pay no attention to what is happening around us when we are in a different place. We don’t know how to read a room, let alone how to appreciate another country’s scenery.

Also, other countries have residents. People have daily jobs to go to. Children go to school. And yes, animals are in their natural habitat, and you are a visitor. If you respect the space you are in, don’t interfere with daily activities, leave the wildlife alone and put your trash where it belongs, you can take a major step in being appreciated by the locals. This matters, from the people sharing the corner waiting for the light to change to the hotel staff and public servants at the buildings and transit hubs. Be courteous.

We don’t try other languages, either. Many countries have a go at English, but would they hold their own in our country? Probably not, but they will make the effort. We should do the same when we go elsewhere. Find out what words are taboo in the place you’ll visit, and make sure that if you use those, be conscious of that flaw and try not to embarrass yourself. Learn some basics such as “Thank You” in your host country’s language.

Another way to make yourself out as a fool is to disrespect monuments and memorials. Some tourist destinations are somber places, so don’t treat it as a photo op for a selfie of you making faces where people sacrificed their lives. Show respect. And I can’t stress enough; take your trash to the proper place.

Be quiet when people around you are quiet. Public transit may have quiet cars on trains, or talking loudly may be frowned upon on busses. Keep your music to yourself as well.

As you use your device to record things around you, have common sense. Avoid situations which may be dangerous or draw negative attention. Most of us are just normal people with cell phones. Don’t be a bad influence. Or a worse influencer.

	Eden on A Good Rabbit Hole
	Eden on Free Secretary
	Eden on Getting the Message
	Eden on The Unasked Questions
	Eden on And Her Shoes Were #9

Susan's Scribblings the Blog

Tag: fiction

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