I ordered a paperback book from Amazon last night. The last book I ordered was a paperback, too. So was the one before that.
In every dimension, the Kindle is better. It’s slimmer, lighter, holds thousands of books, syncs to the computer, has a built-in dictionary, simplifies highlighting, and I can read it on red-eyes without turning on that glaring overhead light.
Yet there’s something about seeing The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle on the bedside table that nudges me to pick it up. There’s something different about turning the page, about feeling how much more’s left to read. Real books hit different.
I keep seeing surveys where workers say Work From Home is better than being in the office in every way. The commute is shorter, there’s time for deep work, it’s cheaper, it means more time spent with family and healthier lunches and fewer wasted meetings and less time spent getting dressed.
Last month, Andy went back into Industrious for the first time in a year. He called me as he walked home. “It’s amazing what we humans justify. I thought WFH has been fine, but after a day in the office, I feel like we’ve lost a year of our lives.”1
Yes, going in to work sucks. Everybody’s cramming on to the train at the same time. The bougie lunch stall is hawking $15 sandwiches. It’s a drag to shave and put on pants and talk about how “yeah this rain is crazy” 30 times. Being in-person is worse in every single dimension.
But dammit, I love running to catch that train. That’s my favorite lunch spot. And sometimes you’ve got to keep shaving to stay alive.
I keep getting introduced to people in NYC. Not a single person has suggested we do a Zoom call.
“Let’s grab coffee this week.”
I am long remote work and flexible work. WFH != remote work. Bottle is a remote company. I’ve been bouncing around for the past three years. But the death of the office is vastly exaggerated.↩︎