I have an online work meeting this morning with the ‘big bosses,’ my first of 2021. This involves me making an effort, namely shaving, wearing ‘outdoor’ clothes and generally looking like the competent, professional individual they last saw way back in 1987. I jest, of course, but the longer this current lockdown stretches the more it feels that decades as opposed to weeks have passed since I last set foot in this place they call the office.
There will of course be much wailing and gnashing of teeth in the bathroom when I do finally pick up my trusty razor. I’ll be going for the reliable employee look as opposed to demented hillbilly. I only hope I can carry it off and slip seamlessly into the role I play so well, the role where I’m a competent, eloquent manager who knows exactly what he’s doing and fully deserves every penny of the pay packet they dump into his bank account every month.
Then there’s the drama of dressing myself. Epic eye roll. No Christmas 2020 loungewear for me. I’ll have to look reasonably human, at least from the waist up. Hmmm, no I think I’d better go the whole hog and wear trousers as well. Just in case they’ve rigged my laptop with secret cameras that would expose my slovenly lower half and lead to awkward conversations about my suitability for the role I’m currently performing.
I’m sure I’ll pull it off and rise to the occasion. I normally do. Life is but one big performance after all and this is just another fleeting cameo before I skulk back into the shadows and focus on my next Netflix binge. The ‘work mask’ can be cast aside for another few weeks and I’ll focus on my writing, homeschooling and dog walking duties. I know I’m very fortunate so please read this post in the ‘tongue-in-cheek’ style it was written in. I’m not a complete ogre.