Chained to the spot, eyes puffy and bloodshot, looking as disheveled as a night on the turps. The computer demands to be fed and its veracious, insatiable appetite consumes all before it. For it does not sleep. So day turns into night and again into day.
Who would have thought that remote work would chain us all to new set of office chairs – a new form of virtual open office? One in which we communicate to the outside world through a pane of glass, a tenuous NBN connection, our private lives oh so on hold while in the background, the spy-cam, the blue eye, innocuously is available for all to behold.
Left to our own devices and an overly optimistic internet, to find new ways to reach out and communicate, to hear, to empathise and to be understood.
What replaces that great leveler, that oh so perfect coffee, informally chatting to clients young and old? How do I form those invisible bonds that used the senses, that tie us together, not stagnating in the superficial, as strangers, but latching on to the truth my friend. Ties that do not break?.
How can we optimise our style and collaborate? Use the tools that bind us but not strangle our creativity? How do we pass that talking stick, in means and ways that dissolve the barriers in our minds, those in the way… in the way of progress… to new authentic way of working in our new world order.