This past October I gave up my office space as a cost cutting measure to show the lender I’m a fiscally responsible adult who knows how to budget his money.  In my fantasy world they would take this as a sign to reduce my monthly mortgage payments to something less than the $4200 they currently demand.  Instead they did nothing except unofficially divulge to me over the phone one afternoon that if I am approved for loan modification I can expect a new mortgage payment of around $4800.  I responded to this with my version of a fiscal protest that consisted of two dubious purchases: a year supply of laminated Klenex and a palette of silent Velcro – both on sale at incredible prices (at least that’s what the website claimed).  My goal is to highlight these expenses on my recent bank statements and include them in my updated budget for the lender so the person handling my loan modification application file becomes properly frustrated. 

While a few months have passed since I ditched my office space in favor of my guest room costumed as an office, I’m still having trouble adjusting.  Working from home can be daunting but working from a soon-to-be-foreclosed home can be downright depressing.  If it weren’t for the adaptation of and adjustments to the following workplace tips I’m not sure I could survive:

WHEN IT COMES TO PUNCTUALITY…

In the real work world be in the office by 9:00 AM

In the home office world be at your desk at the same time the rest of the country is at its desk each morning.  If you live on the East Coast don’t use the old “time zone difference” excuse.  Sleeping in is sleeping in no matter how you slice it.

In my world 9:00 AM is waaaay too ambitious so I set my self-expectations a little lower - like 11:00 AM...ish.  When I miss that deadline I’m always armed with clever excuses for myself to myself.  It’s not that I sleep in.  I’m up each day between 6:00 and 6:30 AM but sometimes the Distraction Fairy pays me a visit and I find myself on the mats at the gym turning a 20-minute stretching session into an eternity.  When I run out of conceivable stretches I simply continue making up ones that are either useless or likely harmful toward improved tensility.  However, these movements look super legit (in my mind) and are therefore pure genius.  Why?  Because they allow me to hang around on the stretching mats for another 45 minutes waiting for the attractive girl next to me to turn and ask, “Would you mind rubbing suntan lotion on my back?”  An odd thing to say while indoors… at a gym… but this is my daydream where anything is plausible and laughable.  I’m the Felix Unger of daydreams so the tanning lotion part of that fantasy always grosses me out.  If only there were an ounce of self-control or sanity in my body I probably wouldn’t be in foreclosure.

WHEN IT COMES TO APPEARANCE…

In the real work world proper work attire is required

In the home office world proper work attire is not a bathrobe.  It is not wearing just your underwear and nothing else unless you’re an underwear model conducting a photo shoot in your own home.  On that same note, do try to wear underwear… under your clothing.  Yes, it feels liberating at times to go commando but trust me when I tell you, underwear was made for a reason.  While I’m still searching for that reason I suspect donning undergarments can only lead to a more professional demeanor. 

In my world I resist the temptation to wear t-shirts with stupid logos even though I sometimes go days without any professional interaction.  Whenever the urge arises I simply put a slogan-clad t-shirt on my cat and live vicariously through him.  My favorite is watching him walk around with a t-shirt that says, “I’m with stupid.”  That one always gives me a good chuckle until I realize I’m the referenced “stupid” that the shirt is broadcasting.  Sometimes the cat claims he “didn’t get the memo” on coordinating outfits and shows up in an ensemble that clashes with mine.  This makes me particularly irritated on Hawaiian Shirt Fridays.

WHEN IT COMES TO FRATERNIZING DURING WORK HOURS…

In the real work world socializing is for lunch breaks or after work hours.

In the home office world friends do not let other friends simply drop by unannounced to shoot the sh-t unless you live in your own little sitcom world.  Deadbolt the door and do not answer it.  The same goes for your personal phone line or cell phone line – don’t answer them either.

In my world:  Keeping the door dead bolted and refusing to answer it is part of my survival instincts these days.  At any moment my lender could serve me with a foreclosure or eviction notice.  In my silly, little world as long as I don’t answer the door I can continue living here as long as I want.  Ha, ha, ha, ha.  That’s me… laughing at myself.  When it comes to friends dropping by unexpectedly I have issues.  The cat, while not my foe (except at 5am when his business causes the automatic cat litter box to jam and screech until I dislodge the offending petrified lump of poo from the teeth of it's rake) could be considered my friend.  He drops by daily if not hourly to distract me from my work.  This is one of many reasons I should not waste precious work time attempting in depth conversations with him about the androgynous nature of Garfield. 

WHEN IT COMES TO LUNCH BREAKS…

In the real work world lunch breaks should be between 30 minutes and an hour in length.  Five or more visits to the candy jar in reception constitutes lunch so consider the empty calories you ingested as an opportunity to use the lunch hour for something besides eating… like drawing anatomically incorrect, naked pictures of your boss and plastering them throughout the office cubicles. 

In the home office world you’re either the type who has to remind yourself to take lunch breaks or the type who has to remind yourself that just because the kitchen is a few steps away you don’t have to deposit the entirety of the its contents into your belly through repeated visits on the minute… every 5 minutes.  Trust me, the food will still be there at the end of the workday.  If you fear this is not the case because a small, blue elderly man named Papa Smurf sneaks into the refrigerator and cupboards on a daily basis to strip them of their edible delights then consider scheduling a psychiatry session during the lunch hour.  Do this daily until both you and your shrink agree the medicine has “kicked in”. 

In my world I employ a small army of talented individuals to keep crazy away from me.  Between my weekly life coach session and twice-weekly therapy sessions I’m left with just two days a week to utterly bungle my lunch hour.  I can turn a typical lunch break into a six-hour, eight-course meal so slowly it’ll make your head stand still.  

WHEN IT COMES TO BRINGING YOUR WORK HOME…

In the real work world what happens in the office stays in the office. Don't bring your work home.

In the home office world nobody gets up from the dinner table and rushes out the door so they can finish creating the macros for the spreadsheet on the company’s 3^rd quarter earnings… from 2006.   Neither should you.  Unless you’ve solved world hunger via recycled plastic grocery bags or cracked the secret to cold fusion, work can wait until tomorrow.

In my world this is one rule that doesn’t apply.  I work in an industry where a project or idea can change a person’s fortune overnight.  If the creative lightning strikes it doesn’t matter if I’m in the middle of dinner or sleeping – I best go to work on it because it could very well bail me out of this foreclosure mess.  Good thing I no longer care about keeping this house.  Dinners proceed without interruption and sleep, well… I take it wherever and whenever I can get it.  Sometimes this is smack dab in the middle of the workday on the couch in my office… for an hour or two or three.

WHEN IT COMES TO WORKPLACE ROMANCES…

In the real work world don’t have an affair with your boss or coworkers.

In the home office world you’re your own boss and coworker.  Need I go into detail?  Please don’t make me get gross.  You won’t like me when I’m gross.

In my world I do not have an affair with myself without first promising myself that I intend to leave my family [cat] and give myself a promotion.  I cannot wait to settle that lawsuit with myself.  I’m almost as anxious for that legal wrangling as I am for the one the lender is sure to tie me up in for the deficit left after the foreclosure. 

That’s more than enough wisdom for one day.  Besides, it’s the start of another workday for me in this soon-to-be foreclosed house, which means there are people at the office waiting to be irritated.  I’m behind on more than a few projects to say the least.  I can't figure out why.  When the boss finds out boy is he gonna be pissed.