In jobs gone by, working from home was a cunning little ruse to spend the day at home enjoying endless cups of tea whilst catching up with Richard & Judy.
Sometimes, it involved getting a haircut. Or taking the cat to the vet. Or even doing the supermarket shop.
It did occasionally involve actual ‘working’, but more often than not, any pressing deadlines were met with minutes to spare in the last few hours of the working day, or frequently, after dark.
But this didn’t matter. I’d had the whole day to myself, to footle around doing whatever I wanted to do, without the constant interruption from my team or my colleagues wanting me for meetings, or conference calls, or strategic planning sessions (no, I never found out what these were).
Anyway, this week, after two weeks in the office, I decided it was time to have a day ‘working from home’ and envisaged a similar routine.
I hadn’t reckoned on the twins. They’re not daft. Mummy may well be out of sight in the office, but she was not out of mind.
The first hour of the day was spent with them ramming the door to the office with their new baby buggies. Those poor babies must now be suffering from severe concussion having been thrown out of their seats and against the solid wood doors.
The battering of the door was accompanied by the occasional shriek of, “Mummmmmeeeeeee”, “Bayyyyyyybbbeeeeee” and I made the mistake of shouting back to them, telling them how nice it was to hear baby’s skull whacking against the door every 30 seconds.
The communication only served to fuel their determination to break in. Next there was scrabbling and scratching as they tried to prise the door open. Then sobbing, when they failed to succeed.
Our lovely helper Joy tried every distraction technique known to man, and eventually tempted them away to the dining room table with the promise of play dough.
All was quiet. The girls had seemingly forgotten I was tucked away just a few metres from them. They were distracted. And they were happy.
And then I realised my dilemma. One hour into the day and I was ready for tea. But I daren’t open the door. If the girls caught sight of me, we would be back to square one, fighting them off as I attempted to shut myself away again.
There was no option. I sat in the office, tea-less, and quiet, and realised I had no choice. I might as well get on with some work.
Working from home has never been so productive!