Working Out

I generally work three days in the office, two days from home. Recently, I was working on things that necessitated my being there in person, so I worked Monday through Friday, all five days in the office. The week felt long, unending. I kept thinking, “Tomorrow’s Friday,” but there was always another day. I had expected to feel spent at the end of the week, ready to return to the hybrid schedule, but instead I felt sort of delighted. Yes, the week was long, and wasn’t that great?

We’re always complaining that life goes by so quickly, that we don’t have enough time; look, it’s summer again, how can that be? I found myself amazed at the way time seemed to elongate during my week in the office. Yes, the days seemed to be moving more slowly, but isn’t that what we want? Isn’t that the point?

Hybrid work, for many of us, emerged from Covid lockdowns. It’s been several years that I’ve been working this split schedule, and while it felt novel back in 2020, lately it’s felt humdrum. I’ve become so accustomed to the tempo of the week — Monday work from home, three days in the office, work from home Friday — that changing it up made the days feel strange, like new countries to explore.

You might say, sure, I want my life to feel longer, but I want more leisure time, not an interminable workweek. I get it. Maybe part of my satisfaction with this schedule came from not having to squeeze all my office-specific work into three days. But it’s intriguing to think that reorganizing your week can reorient your relationship with time.

Maybe the week felt longer because there was so much sameness to the daily routine. This is what people complain about! Monotony! We want to mix things up! But I think the real reason the office week felt longer, in a good way, is that it felt richer, more textured. On the two days a week I normally work from home, I see a very limited number of people. I have fewer social interactions. I’m less likely to go out after work. There’s less information to process, less excitement, and that makes the days, in a way, seem less significant. I spend less time thinking about the work-from-home days, so they make up less of my larger life narrative.

Five days in the office, by contrast, was five days of commuting with the fascinating (if occasionally maddening) characters on mass transit, seeing colleagues, coffee and lunch dates, happy hours. There was more content, more surprise, more to think about. Sure, there were days when I wished I could sleep a little later and not rush out the door to catch a train. But mostly the days felt like generous canvases to fill with the interesting activity of just living.