After five years of working from home, I’ve reentered the workforce. I’ll be honest, it’s taking some adjustment. Gone are the days of rolling out of bed at 6:45 a.m. in order to be in front of the computer by 7:00 a.m. I’m now getting up at 4:45 a.m. so I can get to the gym before I clock in at 8:00. I’m learning how to divvy up household chores throughout the week instead of tackling them all on one day as in the past. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that the crafty projects on my to-do list are now probably destined to languish there for all eternity.
But the toughest adjustments all revolve around the fact that I’ve been forced to ditch my daytime pajamas for a real work wardrobe.
- The pile of ironing, formerly comprised of the hubby’s dress shirts, has become a mountain. I foresee the swift development of a close and continuing relationship with the local dry cleaner.
- Dress shoes suck. They pinch my toes. They cut my heels. And those are the comfortable ones.
- In the five years since I’ve last had to buy them, manufacturers have adjusted the size chart for panty hose. My height has had me firmly in the “B” size since the 8th grade, but in the new and not-so-improved chart, I now find myself to be a “Q.” Thanks for that ego killer, Hanes.
- Far and away, the most distressing aspect of working outside the home: Skirts and dress pants rarely have pockets. I am a ChapStick addict. I. NEED. A. POCKET. I’m going to have to carve some time out of my new schedule to find/make a holster that I can attach to the lanyard of my ID badge.
Otherwise, the new job is great. It’s great to dust off skills I haven’t used in a while and to learn new ones specific to my new organization (I had made it this far in life without using Microsoft Outlook, but I can’t avoid it any longer). I am enjoying being around people again, who, unlike the four walls of my home office, tend to answer questions I ask of them. And I really like the fulfillment of a paycheck automatically landing in the bank account every two weeks.
In the coming weeks, I’ll be stalking the halls, observing my coworkers to see if warmer weather brings a transition from nylons and heels to bare legs and sandals. If so, I’ll be convinced that the decision to reenter the workforce was the right one. As long as I have a ChapStick holster.