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By Ron Donoho
More and more folks are trading in tassel loafers for bunny slippers. The work-at-home trend is on the rise in San Diego—the city was recently ranked number 4 in a “Best Areas for Telecommuting” joint survey done by PC World and Money magazines.
Telecommuting means being attached to a real-life office by phone, modem or computer network. Telecommuting should not be confused with Teletubbies, a kids’ show about four garishly hued alien babies whose oatmeal is spiked with Prozac. Teletubbies airs on KPBS at 8:30 a.m., which, incidentally, is an hour nary a telecommuter is out of bed.
Ah, telecommuting—those were the days. I remember a time when I’d never heard of the Today Show, Katie Couric, Soncee Partida or Po (the maroon Teletubby). Before snagging a cushy editorial job within San Diego Magazine’s corporate publishing empire, I was a HOG. Some friends claim I still dress like one. I certainly look back on my home-office days with an especially wistful nod toward wardrobe.
Freelancing for a variety of publications, I did telephone interviews with Fortune 500 CEOs, politicians and, generally, people who walk the business world in Armani, Gucci and Botany 500. Imagine the horrified looks of starched GOP leaders if they’d learned the journalist they were on the phone with—spilling intimate details of their 1996 national convention—was sitting at home in a “Bubba Gump” T-shirt and plaid boxer shorts airily frayed in the crotch.
I remember that after six months of HOG life, an occasion arose requiring me to wear a necktie. (It was either a funeral or a GOP cocktail party, hard to tell.) But I discovered I’d forgotten to how to tie the four-in-hand knot, the Windsor, the half-Windsor, the nelson or even the basic half-nelson.
So, fearing complete social ostracization, I devised a plan to link me closer to the traditional working world. Mondays through Thursdays were still designated “casual days.” That is, sleepwear was acceptable as day wear. But Fridays became formal days: I’d shower, shave and methodically apply roll-on deodorant to every movable joint on my body. This prompted my wife to exclaim “T.G.I.F!” with great enthusiasm. Then I’d go to the den and sit at my desk. In my tuxedo.
Boredom and lack of companionship are also issues for HOGs. These problems can be overcome, though. For example, I made Uncle Lou my intern. I’d get him to fetch my slippers and do menial tasks—like licking envelopes. Did I mention that Uncle Lou is my dog? He was okay at light filing work but had a lot of trouble on the computer.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be a full-time HOG again. It gets in your blood (the same way a bottle of Cuervo Gold 1800 does). But telecommuting is becoming a more-recognized and lucrative means of bringing home the bacon. Of course, the Teletubbies aren’t doing too badly, either. Then again, they have to get up pretty early.
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