I miss working in an office

But possibly I am deluded

I came to work in a cafe today so that I wouldn’t feel depressed and anxious working from home. Almost immediately, two women came and sat at the table next to me and started talking about the end of the world. So I had to listen to them exchanging notes on armageddon, while I tried to enjoy my baked eggs.

Both women were stinking rich. One wanted to get divorced but wasn’t sure whether she’d manage the kids’ £85k/year school fees if she did the deed, and the other had just bought a ‘huge chunk of land’ to build on in Scotland (a possible nuclear safe haven, she thought), but hated her husband, who she was going to have to share it with. It seems money doesn’t solve everything after all.

As you can tell, I didn’t get much work done. In cafés, no matter how many deadlines I’ve got, I just can’t resist listening into conversations and inventing life narratives for total strangers. Working from home has its benefits, but it does seem to breed both insanity and narcolepsy in me. I’ve decided I miss working in an office.