Working From Home Archives - untypicable.

Five Times I Dropped Myself In It

James Henshaw — Tue, 26 Aug 2025 10:00:00 +0000

There’s a certain smug self-satisfaction that comes with being the one who “has ideas” in meetings. A dangerous twinkle in the eye. The sort of misguided optimism that leads one to believe they can make things better.

That was me.

Once.

Now I know better. Now I sit in silence, eyes down, fiddling with a pen like it’s a bomb defusal trigger. Because every time I’ve opened my mouth to suggest something helpful, I’ve ended up project managing it, facilitating it, or—on one tragic occasion—being thanked for “volunteering” when I was quite clearly just thinking out loud.

Here, for the record (and perhaps your own self-preservation), are five “innocent” moments that spiralled into logistical hell.

1. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we had a shared document?”

Original thought:
We’re knee-deep in a reply-all email chain involving seven different people, three versions of the same spreadsheet, and a passive-aggressive attachment named FINAL_THIS_ONE_REALLY_FINAL_July_2025_NEW.xlsx.

I thought I was helping. I thought: There must be a better way.

What happened next:
I created the document. Shared the link. Gave everyone edit access.

Big mistake.

I am now the Document Goblin. Keeper of the Spreadsheet. Warden of Comments. I’m consulted for every tiny formatting decision like I’m the ghost of Clippy come back to suffer.

Someone once tagged me at 11:48pm to say, “Row 19 is acting funny.” I haven’t known peace since.

2. “I don’t mind taking minutes, just this once.”

Original thought:
The Chair forgot their notepad. Everyone else is “terrible at typing” (a suspicious claim in an office full of 70 WPM typists). I had a laptop. I had fingers. I was young and naive.

What happened next:
Two years later, I’m still taking the bloody minutes.

I’ve documented over 48 meetings, 17 of which were about the next meeting. I now type in bullet points even in casual conversation. I no longer experience time—only “action points.”

Colleagues ask for “the minutes” like they’re requesting a sacred scroll. Once, someone disputed an agreement, and I had to cite myself. I am become bureaucracy, destroyer of free time.

3. “We could probably make this into a workshop.”

Original thought:
We were discussing staff burnout. I, ironically burned out myself, said:

“Maybe instead of yet another 26-page policy document, we could do a workshop or something.”

This was meant as a throwaway suggestion. Like saying “we should go for coffee sometime” and then immediately forgetting the other person exists.

What happened next:
Apparently I have a “gift for engagement.” I now run a quarterly interactive learning session called “Burnout and You: Let’s Try Screaming Into a Mug Together.”

It includes icebreakers, “check-in wheels”, and a paper-based feelings volcano. Nobody’s enjoying it, least of all me. At the last session, someone cried during the mindfulness bit. I asked if they were okay. They said, “Not really, but you’re trying so hard.”

I don’t know if that was praise or a cry for help. Possibly both.

4. “I read something about that the other day…”

Original thought:
There was a lull in the meeting. I thought I’d throw in a light factoid to move things along. Harmless, right? Just a fun little “Did you know?”

What happened next:
I was declared subject matter expert on the spot.

“Since you’ve already been doing research on this…” they said, casually offering me leadership of the pilot project. I wasn’t even sure what the topic was. I only read half an article on LinkedIn during a slow spell at Pret.

Now I lead a working group. There’s a Teams channel with my name on it. I once explained a concept using a diagram I made in MS Paint. It’s been circulated to senior management. I now live in fear of being invited to present it at a conference.

5. “I’ve made a rough draft, but it’s nothing special.”

Original thought:
I stayed up late, slightly overcaffeinated, and bashed out a quick draft of a staff handbook rewrite. It wasn’t polished, but it didn’t have Comic Sans, and that already put it ahead of 60% of internal documents.

What happened next:
“This is great!” they said.
“This should be the new template!” they said.

I now unwittingly own the organisation’s tone of voice. People email me asking if their sentence is “on brand.” I’ve had an argument about hyphenation that lasted three weeks. I made a joke once about semicolons being “emotionally unstable commas.” It ended up in the comms strategy.

Honourable Mentions:

“Maybe we should have a survey?” → You now manage SurveyMonkey and the eternal inbox of complaints that is the “anonymous feedback form.”
“We should ask people what they want.” → Now you’re running a consultation. With stakeholders. With minutes.
“That meeting could’ve been an email.” → Congratulations, you now write the email.

Lessons Learned (Possibly):

Never speak in hypotheticals.
Never look directly at the Chair when suggesting anything.
If you must contribute, do so in riddles.

E.g.,

“Perhaps time is a circle and we are all but stewards of its confusion…”
Then nod thoughtfully. Take a sip of tea. They’ll never ask you again.

Conclusion

Some people rise through the ranks through hard work, ambition, and natural leadership.
I’ve managed to get noticed by saying “wouldn’t it be better if…” and then spending six months cleaning up the consequences.

Next time, I’ll just smile, nod, and accidentally mute myself for the rest of the meeting. It’s the only safe option.

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James Henshaw

James Henshaw is a brooding Geordie export who swapped the industrial grit of Newcastle for the peculiar calm of Lincolnshire—though he’s yet to fully trust the flatness. With a mind as sharp as a stiletto and a penchant for science-tinged musings, James blends the surreal with the everyday, crafting blogs that feel like the lovechild of a physics textbook and a fever dream.

Equally at home dissecting the absurdities of modern life as he is explaining quantum theory with alarming metaphors, James writes with the wit of someone who knows too much and the irreverence of someone who doesn’t care. His posts are infused with a dark humour that dares you to laugh at the strange, the inexplicable, and the occasionally terrifying truths of the universe—whether it’s the unnerving accuracy of Alexa or the existential menace of wasps.

A figure of mystery with a slightly unsettling edge, James is the sort of bloke who’d explain the meaning of life over a pint, but only after a dramatic pause long enough to make you question your own existence. His wit cuts deep, his insights are sharp, and his ability to make the surreal feel strangely plausible keeps readers coming back for more.

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The Passive-Aggressive Politics of Calendar Invites

James Henshaw — Thu, 31 Jul 2025 10:00:00 +0000

At first glance, a calendar invite seems like the simplest of workplace tools. You pick a time, type in a title, and send it off into the void. Done. Organised. Efficient.

But anyone who’s worked in an office longer than a week knows that the calendar invite is not a neutral instrument. It is loaded. A digital power play. A subtle act of warfare dressed up in timestamps and agenda bullet points. The calendar invite is where meetings are made, reputations are bruised, and vendettas are quietly scheduled for Tuesday at 11.

Let’s explore the hidden meanings behind the most common calendar invite behaviours—what they seem to say, and what they actually mean.

1. The 8:30am Monday Meeting
What it pretends to say: “Let’s start the week strong!”
What it actually says: “I do not respect weekends, sleep, or joy.”

No one is at their best at 8:30am on a Monday. Not even the sender. But the point isn’t productivity—it’s dominance. This is the email equivalent of slamming a metal tray on a table and yelling, “Wake up!” Only instead of a tray, it’s your phone alarm, and instead of yelling, it’s Outlook reminding you that someone hates you.

Usage:

Popular with micromanagers who have no hobbies.
Often accompanied by a 43-page agenda and a 300MB PowerPoint no one opens.

2. “No Title” Invite
What it pretends to say: “This will become clear in the meeting.”
What it actually says: “Fear me.”

A meeting invite with no title is a psychological threat. It arrives like a ghost—no subject, no agenda, just a block of time. You spend the hours leading up to it running through everything you’ve ever done wrong, just in case.

Usage:

Sometimes accidental. Usually not.
Particularly effective when sent by someone senior and emotionally unavailable.

3. “Optional” Attendee Status
What it pretends to say: “No pressure to attend!”
What it actually says: “You will be judged either way.”

The “optional” tag is the Schrödinger’s cat of attendance expectations. Are you expected to be there? No one knows. But miss it, and you’ll somehow still be held accountable for not contributing to the thing you didn’t know was happening.

Usage:

Used to cover backsides.
Frequently deployed by people who will spend the meeting saying, “As I mentioned in the call…”

4. Recurring Forever
What it pretends to say: “Let’s keep this momentum going.”
What it actually says: “This meeting is your life now.”

There is nothing quite as soul-crushing as realising the meeting you thought was a one-off is now booked into your calendar every Thursday until the sun explodes. Worse still, you can’t delete it without declining the whole series, which is basically a resignation letter.

Usage:

Used by people who love structure and hate free time.
Most likely to be about “quick weekly updates” that run for 95 minutes.

5. Double-Booking You Anyway
What it pretends to say: “Let me know what works best for you!”
What it actually says: “I don’t care what works best for you.”

You already have a meeting at that time. Your calendar clearly shows this. And yet… here it is. Another invite. Like a second dinner guest showing up with their own cutlery and demanding to be seated.

Usage:

Sent by people who “don’t believe in calendars.”
Usually followed by: “Can you give me a quick summary of what I missed?”

6. “Catch-Up” With No Agenda
What it pretends to say: “Just a quick sync!”
What it actually says: “You’re in trouble, but I’m not telling you why yet.”

The phrase “just a catch-up” should terrify you. Especially when paired with no agenda and booked for 45 minutes. This is not a chat. This is a reckoning.

Usage:

Common among line managers trying to “check the vibe.”
90% chance of surprise feedback.

7. “All-Day Hold”
What it pretends to say: “Just blocking this off, no action needed.”
What it actually says: “This is a placeholder for something huge. Fear it.”

An “all-day hold” sits in your calendar like a dark omen. You don’t know what it’s for. No one tells you. But you daren’t plan anything else, because it might become real at any moment.

Usage:

The workplace version of “something’s coming.”
Often evaporates with no explanation, leaving only existential dread.

8. “Zoom Link Coming Soon”
What it pretends to say: “We’re just finalising details.”
What it actually says: “This meeting doesn’t exist yet. But I want it to.”

A calendar invite with no link is like a house with no doors. It stands for something, but you have no way of entering. You wait. You follow up. You never get the link.

Usage:

Sent by optimists. Or saboteurs. Sometimes both.
If it’s still missing 5 minutes before, it’s time to feign a power cut.

Choose Your Invites Carefully
Every calendar action you take—every time slot, every label, every optional attendee—is part of a delicate, unspoken negotiation. One false move, and you’ve booked yourself into weekly hell until Q4.

So next time you fire up your calendar, ask yourself:

Is this necessary?
Is this helpful?
Or am I just weaponising 2:15pm on a Wednesday to make a point?

If in doubt, do the kindest thing of all: make it an email instead.

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How to Convince Yourself You’ve Been Productive Without Actually Doing Anything

Kerry Freeman — Wed, 16 Apr 2025 10:00:00 +0000

Productivity is a state of mind—or at least that’s what we tell ourselves after spending an entire day colour-coding our calendar, rearranging pens, and opening tabs we have no intention of reading. In a world where hustle culture is worn like a badge of honour and even naps are being marketed as “productive rest,” it’s easy to feel like you’re falling behind if you’re not launching a side business or starting a podcast.

But what if you could cheat the system? What if you could experience that smug post-productivity glow without actually achieving anything at all? It’s not laziness—it’s lifestyle design. And if you, like me, enjoy the self-satisfied feeling of a “productive day” without the faff of tangible results, then you’re in the right place. Prepare to master the subtle art of doing nothing—and looking impressive while you do it.

Step 1: Open All the Tabs

There’s no clearer visual sign of your busyness than having a browser that looks like it’s auditioning for a Guinness World Record. You don’t even have to read the tabs. Just open everything that might vaguely resemble productivity: job listings, articles titled “7 Morning Routines of Highly Effective People,” a YouTube tutorial for something you’ll never try, and a Google Sheet with absolutely nothing in it.

The trick is to cultivate digital chaos with intent. Even better, leave those tabs open overnight. Wake up the next day, glance at your screen and sigh heavily as if you’re being pulled in too many directions. If a housemate or partner sees it, even better. Nothing screams “busy professional” like a cluttered desktop and deeply furrowed brow over an article you haven’t read.

Bonus move: open a Trello board. Stare at it. Close it again. Boom—executive energy.

Step 2: Make a List So Long It Becomes Performance Art

Lists are the cornerstone of faux productivity. But you must play the game cleverly. Avoid specifics. Write down things like “strategise weekly objectives” or “engage with priorities” (whatever that means). This gives your list gravitas without ever requiring follow-through.

For extra flourish, write the list in a fancy notebook with a dramatic sigh. Then, for pure serotonin, retroactively add things you’ve already done and immediately cross them off:

“Made coffee”
“Opened laptop”
“Sat near work”

You are now thriving.

If you’re feeling especially audacious, colour-code your list. This adds the illusion of organisation without actual purpose. Use words like “Phase One” and “Touchpoint.” Make your stationery do the heavy lifting.

Step 3: Rearrange Something Entirely Pointless

Have you even worked from home if you haven’t spent 45 minutes angling your desk lamp just so? Or swapped your ‘main’ mug with your ‘focus’ mug because, obviously, vibes?

This is where the illusion of control comes in. Maybe you alphabetise your spice rack (again), re-stack the Tupperware drawer, or give your plant a pep talk. These acts feel vaguely industrious but are entirely consequence-free. No boss is going to ask for an update on your wardrobe’s sock arrangement.

Don’t forget the cleaning that isn’t cleaning. Wiping down an already pristine surface with a vague air of contemplation counts. Bonus points if you do it while holding a mug you’ve reheated four times but never actually drunk from.

Step 4: Use Ambiguous Business Jargon in Conversation

Nobody needs to understand what you’re saying—as long as it sounds like you’re knee-deep in corporate warfare.

Phrases like “I’m circling back on some Q3 insights” or “I’m just aligning some deliverables across key verticals” will do. They mean nothing. They solve nothing. But they impress everyone—including yourself.

Even if you live alone, this still works. Narrate your lunch as if you’re hosting a webinar. “Let’s pivot to leftovers with a low-friction reheat strategy.” Suddenly, your fridge is a brainstorming session and your microwave a visionary tool.

Step 5: Be Strategically Online

Being online doesn’t count as scrolling endlessly through cat videos (though we’ve all earned that). Instead, pepper your digital presence with just enough effort to suggest you’re in demand.

Send one work-adjacent message on Slack. Like a couple of productivity influencers’ posts on LinkedIn. Maybe post a cryptic tweet: “Big things coming ” (you mean a sandwich).

Reply to an email thread from three days ago with “Just bumping this up the chain!” People will think you’re keeping things on track when really, you just remembered it existed.

Meanwhile, you remain firmly planted on the sofa, half-watching Bargain Hunt.

Step 6: Wear ‘Productive’ Clothes You’ll Never Take Outside

There is a category of fashion that exists solely for the illusion of busyness. Think: smart jumper over pyjama bottoms. A pair of glasses you found in a drawer. Maybe even shoes. Indoors. For no reason.

Wearing an outfit that says, “I might have a Zoom call later” is key. No one can say you’re not working if you’ve put on trousers. Even if it’s just to pace around dramatically while reading text messages.

The tote bag hanging by the door? Purely decorative. It hasn’t been outside since 2021, but it makes you feel like someone who has errands.

Fake It ‘Til You Log Off

In a world that won’t stop asking you to do more, be more, optimise more—there’s something quietly revolutionary about looking busy while doing the absolute minimum.

Productivity theatre is an art. A wink to the world that says, “I could be grinding—but I’m choosing vibes.” All it takes is a little theatre, a few well-placed phrases, and a calendar notification you can ignore with purpose.

You don’t need measurable outcomes. You need a list, a latte, and the moral superiority that comes from pretending you’ve absolutely smashed the day.

And if all else fails, just tweet “busy day today!” and take a nap. You’ve earned it.

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Kerry Freeman

Born and raised in Sheffield, Kerry Freeman is an unrepentant tea addict, cat enthusiast, and lifelong expert in the art of looking busy while doing the bare minimum. By day, she works as a minion in a government department (no, not one of the cute yellow ones with dungarees). By night, she brings her wicked sense of humour to untypicable.co.uk as an occasional contributor, where she fearlessly tackles life’s nonsense with sharp wit, historical references, and the occasional inappropriate joke.

Kerry has no children (by choice, obviously), but she does have a cat, which is basically the same thing but with more attitude and fewer school runs. When she’s not writing, you’ll probably find her at a historical re-enactment, enthusiastically pretending she’s living in another century—preferably one with fewer emails and better hats.

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Why Is the Printer Always the Most Useless Piece of Technology?

James Henshaw — Thu, 13 Mar 2025 10:00:00 +0000

There are few universal truths in life, but one of them is this: printers are the absolute worst. In a world where we have smartphones with AI assistants, self-driving cars, and fridges that can order milk, we still cannot invent a printer that just works when you need it to.

This isn’t a new problem. Printers have been the bane of human existence since their invention, and despite decades of technological advancement, they remain as temperamental as ever—finicky, prone to failure, and deeply, deeply personal in their hatred for you.

Why? Why is this the one piece of technology that refuses to evolve? Let’s break down exactly why printers are the worst invention of all time.

Step One: The Printer Refuses to Connect

The first hurdle is actually getting the printer to acknowledge your existence.

You have your document ready. You click print. The printer does… nothing. The little icon on your screen flashes mockingly, informing you that the printer is “offline.”

You check the printer. It is very much online. You restart it. Nothing. You restart your computer. Still nothing. You disconnect and reconnect the Wi-Fi, as if somehow the entire internet is to blame.

At this point, two things may happen:

It will start working for no apparent reason.
It will refuse out of pure spite.

There is no in-between.

Step Two: The Great Paper Jam That Shouldn’t Exist

Congratulations, you’ve convinced the printer to do its job. But just as it begins to whir into action, it immediately stops.

A message flashes up: “Paper Jam.”

You open the tray. There is no jammed paper.

You open every compartment like a bomb disposal expert, certain that there’s nothing obstructing the mechanism. But the printer is unmoved. The error persists.

After five minutes of increasingly frustrated panel-checking, you close everything up without actually doing anything differently, press print again—and suddenly it works.

Why? We will never know.

Step Three: The Ink Cartridge Scam

Everything seems fine. The printer is connected, there is no paper jam, and your document is about to print. But wait—a new pop-up appears.

“Ink Low.”

Now, here’s where the printer really shows its true evil. The ink is not actually low. There is clearly ink left. If you remove the cartridge, shake it, and put it back in, it will print just fine.

But no. The printer wants more ink.

At this point, you have two choices:

Ignore the warning and hope it keeps working.
Buy a replacement ink cartridge, which, for some reason, costs more than the printer itself.

You pick option two, because the printer will not let you win. You insert the brand-new, printer-approved ink cartridge, and suddenly another error appears.

“Cartridge Not Recognized.”

You scream into the void.

Step Four: The Printer Prints Everything Except What You Need

Let’s assume you have somehow bypassed all the previous obstacles. The printer finally accepts its duty, hums to life, and begins its work.

Only to print your document in a strange, faded shade of grey, despite the fact that you never selected greyscale.

Or, for no discernible reason, it spits out a completely blank page.

Or, in a new and exciting twist, it prints one line of text, pauses for 30 seconds, prints another line, and repeats this process until you’ve aged significantly.

The document you urgently needed is now a useless pile of smudged, half-printed nonsense.

Step Five: The Printer Decides It’s Out of Paper When It’s Not

The printer is full of paper. It is literally overflowing with paper. And yet, somehow, it doesn’t think it has any paper.

At this point, you briefly consider throwing it out of the nearest window.

Instead, you remove the paper—which was absolutely fine—and put it back in. Miraculously, the printer now acknowledges the paper’s existence, as if nothing happened.

It prints.

You stare at it.

The war is over… for now.

The Final Betrayal: When You No Longer Need the Printer, It Works Perfectly

Hours later, when you no longer need anything printed, you test the printer again just out of curiosity.

It prints flawlessly.

Not a single issue.

No connectivity problems, no paper jams, no ink warnings. It prints as if it was never broken.

This is when you realise the painful truth: The printer was never malfunctioning. It was testing you.

Printers don’t break. They choose violence.

Why Are Printers Still This Bad?

Technology has advanced beyond all recognition in the last two decades. We have smartphones with AI assistants, self-driving cars, and fridges that order milk when you run low.

And yet, printers remain stuck in the early 2000s, refusing to evolve.

Why? Because printer manufacturers don’t want them to improve. They make far too much money selling ink cartridges, meaning they have no financial incentive to fix the nightmare that is modern printing.

Instead, they let us suffer.

Final Thoughts: Printers Are the Worst, and We Are Trapped

No one truly owns a printer. We are simply temporary caretakers of a malfunctioning, rage-inducing relic of the past.

The printer is not our friend. It is a necessary evil, a device that only works when it senses we don’t need it to.

And yet, we continue to buy them, fight them, and let them win.

Because no matter how much we hate them, the day will come when we desperately need to print one single document.

And thus, the cycle continues.

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The Passive-Aggressive Art of Email Sign-Offs

James Henshaw — Fri, 07 Feb 2025 10:00:00 +0000

Emails are, at their core, a simple concept. You write words, you hit send, and someone else reads them (or doesn’t, depending on whether they’re the type to “circle back” weeks later as if nothing happened). But lurking at the bottom of every email, just before that final full stop, is a hidden battlefield: the email sign-off.

It’s not just a way to end a message—it’s a finely tuned weapon. A secret handshake. A passive-aggressive slap in digital form. Used correctly, a sign-off can make or break workplace diplomacy, subtly communicate your true feelings, or, in extreme cases, send a shiver down the recipient’s spine.

Here’s a breakdown of the most common (and most dangerous) email sign-offs, what they claim to mean, and what they actually mean.

1. “Kind Regards” – The Cold, Corporate Dagger

What it pretends to say: “I am a professional human who wishes you well.”
What it actually says: “I don’t like you, but HR says I have to be polite.”

There is no kindness in “Kind Regards.” It is the most chillingly neutral way to sign off an email while maintaining plausible deniability. It’s polite, yes, but in the same way that being handed a plain beige envelope with “NOTICE OF LEGAL ACTION” written on it is polite.

Usage:

Perfect for shutting down a conversation while appearing civil.
Ideal for when you are deeply irritated but not quite irritated enough to make it obvious.
Often followed by an attachment you definitely should have read the first time.

2. “Best” – The Ambiguous Power Move

What it pretends to say: “I wish you the best, my friend.”
What it actually says: “I acknowledge you and this email, and that’s the limit of my emotional investment.”

There is nothing warm about “Best.” It is the professional equivalent of a nod across a crowded room—brief, cold, and with no intention of further engagement.

Usage:

A favourite among people who want to appear friendly but don’t want to commit to actual friendliness.
Often used by higher-ups who want to sound approachable but don’t care enough to type three more letters.
The preferred choice for people who are perpetually 30 seconds away from throwing their laptop out the window.

3. “Thanks” – The Bare Minimum

What it pretends to say: “I appreciate this.”
What it actually says: “I need you to do this and I want to sound polite, but I will not be elaborating.”

“Thanks” is a classic. It’s short, to the point, and safe. But beware—context is everything.

“Thanks!” – This is warm. Approachable. Friendly.
“Thanks.” – This is a demand. A threat. A warning.

Usage:

Used when you need someone to do something but don’t want to sound like you’re bossing them around.
If someone emails you with just “Thanks.”, prepare for battle.

[mid_ad]

4. “Thanks in Advance” – The Subtle Threat

What it pretends to say: “I am grateful for your future efforts.”
What it actually says: “I expect you to do this. No questions. No excuses.”

There is no escape from “Thanks in advance.” It is not a request. It is a statement of fact. By the time you’ve read those three words, your fate has been sealed.

Usage:

Best deployed when you want someone to do something but don’t want to deal with their input.
Makes it clear that you will not be chasing them for it because it will be done.

5. “Have a Great Day!” – The Cheerful Yet Menacing Closer

What it pretends to say: “I genuinely hope you have a nice day.”
What it actually says: “I loathe you, but I will package my rage in legally acceptable optimism.”

Rarely used in truly happy emails, “Have a great day!” is the sign-off of someone forcing a smile through clenched teeth. The more cheerful it is, the more passive-aggressive it feels.

Usage:

Best used after telling someone off but wanting to seem positive.
If received in an email that also contains a “Just circling back”, prepare to suffer.

6. “Warm Regards” – The Overly Familiar Gambit

What it pretends to say: “I care about you and your wellbeing.”
What it actually says: “I think we are closer than we actually are.”

“Warm Regards” is the hug of email sign-offs. It tries to be comforting but mostly just makes everyone uncomfortable. If you don’t already have an established warm relationship with the recipient, using this can feel like sending a xx to your boss. (And we all know how that ends.)

Usage:

Acceptable if you’re actually on friendly terms with someone.
Highly suspicious if used by someone who was coldly professional in their last email.

7. “Sent from my iPhone” – The ‘I’m Important’ Excuse

What it pretends to say: “Apologies for any typos—this was sent from my phone.”
What it actually says: “I have an iPhone. I’d like you to know that.”

“Sent from my iPhone” is the email equivalent of casually mentioning, “Oh, sorry, I was in the Maldives last week.” It is unnecessary, often irrelevant, and mostly used by people who don’t realise they can delete it in their settings.

And let’s be honest—typos are not exclusive to phone emails. If anything, this disclaimer is more likely to draw attention to them.

Usage:

Used by people who either don’t know how to turn it off or want you to know they are too important to be at a computer.
Unforgivable if it appears in a professional email full of errors.

8. No Sign-Off at All – The Ultimate Power Move

What it pretends to say: Nothing at all.
What it actually says: “I have moved beyond the constraints of pleasantries.”

An email with no sign-off is terrifying. It’s abrupt. It’s cold. It leaves nothing open for interpretation. A person who sends an email with no sign-off is either in a hurry or furious beyond words. Either way, it’s unsettling.

Usage:

Common in workplace disagreements where the sender is done engaging.
If your boss starts emailing you with just their name at the bottom, prepare for restructuring.

Choose Your Sign-Off Wisely

Email sign-offs may seem small, but they carry weight. Choose wrong, and you might accidentally sound cold, too familiar, or subtly hostile. Choose right, and you can exert total psychological dominance over your inbox.

So next time you sign off an email, take a moment. Consider your words carefully. Because sometimes, “Kind Regards” isn’t kind at all.

And if all else fails? Just hit send with no sign-off and watch the world burn.

Have a Great Day! James.

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Rebutting Lord Rose’s Comments on Working from Home

AJ Wright — Mon, 20 Jan 2025 14:30:00 +0000

Lord Stuart Rose, former CEO of Marks & Spencer and Asda, has recently reignited the debate on working from home, labelling it as “not proper work” and citing it as a key factor in declining productivity and wellbeing in the UK. Speaking to BBC Panorama and in subsequent comments, Rose argues that the shift to remote and hybrid working has set the UK back two decades in workplace efficiency and culture.

But is working from home truly the culprit behind national productivity woes? Or is this critique a reflection of outdated workplace norms struggling to adapt to a changing world? To examine these claims, we’ll unpack Lord Rose’s arguments, consider the broader sociological and economic context, and explore the perspectives of both proponents and critics of remote work.

The Argument Against Working from Home

Rose’s position is clear: working from home, while perhaps a necessity during the pandemic, is now seen by some traditionalists as a hindrance to productivity and collaboration. He highlights the following concerns:

Productivity Decline: Rose claims that working practices have regressed, impacting the nation’s overall economic health.
Loss of Workplace Culture: He suggests that face-to-face interaction fosters relationships and innovation, which are diminished in a remote or hybrid environment.
Generational Impact: By implying that a “generation” isn’t doing proper work, he casts doubt on the long-term impact of remote working on career development and business success.

These concerns aren’t unique to Rose; they echo the sentiments of corporate leaders like those at Amazon and JP Morgan, who have called staff back to the office, arguing that in-person work is essential for collaboration and productivity.

The Case for Working from Home

While Rose’s critique has found support among traditionalists, it overlooks significant evidence favouring remote and hybrid working. Here are some key counterpoints:

1. Productivity Is Not a One-Size-Fits-All Metric

Studies, including those by Stanford University economist Professor Nicholas Bloom, show that hybrid working can be just as productive as full-time office work, particularly when employees work in the office for two to three days a week. Workers report fewer distractions, better work-life balance, and increased job satisfaction—all of which contribute to higher productivity in the long term.

Critics of Rose’s position would also argue that productivity isn’t just about hours logged in the office but about the quality and impact of the work produced. Remote work has allowed many employees to focus deeply without the constant interruptions of office life.

2. The Real Productivity Problem Is Bigger

The UK’s productivity issues predate the remote working era and are rooted in systemic economic challenges, including stagnant investment in technology and infrastructure. Blaming working from home for these problems feels like an oversimplification.

3. Flexibility Attracts and Retains Talent

Remote working options have become a key factor in employee retention. As highlighted by employees in these debates, the ability to work from home is valued as much as an 8% pay rise. Companies that embrace flexibility are likely to attract a broader, more diverse workforce, including parents, caregivers, and individuals with disabilities.

A Generational Divide?

Rose’s assertion that working from home has created a generation “not doing proper work” risks alienating younger workers, many of whom entered the workforce during the pandemic. These employees are navigating a world where flexibility is no longer a perk but an expectation.

However, his point about younger workers benefiting from in-person mentorship is worth considering. Early-career professionals may indeed miss out on opportunities for informal learning and networking when working remotely. The challenge lies in finding a balance that ensures access to mentorship without sacrificing flexibility.

Cultural Resistance: Nostalgia or Necessity?

Rose’s comments also highlight a broader cultural resistance to change. Many traditionalists view the office as a cornerstone of professional life, a place where relationships are built, and innovation flourishes. But does this romanticised view of the office hold up?

Research suggests that much of the perceived productivity in offices is performative—think long hours spent visibly working rather than efficiently producing results. Remote work strips away the façade, focusing on deliverables rather than appearances.

This shift has sparked a cultural clash, with traditionalists like Rose on one side and proponents of flexibility on the other. It’s worth asking whether the office-first mindset is driven by nostalgia rather than necessity.

The Sociological Perspective: Work-Life Balance Redefined

From a sociological standpoint, the rise of remote work represents a significant cultural shift. Émile Durkheim might have seen it as a reimagining of collective life, with the office no longer serving as the primary site of social integration. Meanwhile, Max Weber’s “iron cage” of bureaucracy feels increasingly relevant, as rigid office structures give way to more fluid ways of working.

Diane Reay’s work on inequality also offers insight into this debate. Flexible working has opened doors for many individuals who were previously excluded from traditional office life, such as caregivers and people with disabilities. However, the push to return to the office could reinforce existing inequalities, favouring those who can afford to commute and adapt to rigid schedules.

A Balanced Path Forward

While Rose’s concerns about collaboration and culture are valid, they don’t necessitate a wholesale rejection of remote work. Instead, businesses should adopt a nuanced approach that blends the benefits of in-person interaction with the flexibility of remote work.

Key steps could include:

Structured Hybrid Models: Setting clear expectations for in-office and remote days to balance collaboration and productivity.
Mentorship Opportunities: Creating intentional programs for remote mentorship to support early-career employees.
Outcome-Focused Metrics: Evaluating performance based on results rather than physical presence.

Reassessing What “Proper Work” Means

Lord Rose’s comments reflect a broader unease with the rapid changes in workplace culture. But to dismiss remote work as “not proper work” is to overlook the substantial benefits it offers to both employees and employers.

The challenge lies in creating a system that balances the flexibility employees value with the collaboration businesses need. By embracing a hybrid approach and focusing on outcomes rather than tradition, we can move past the culture wars and towards a more inclusive, productive future.

So, is working from home the death of “proper work”? Not quite. It’s just a different way of working—one that reflects the complexities and opportunities of a modern, connected world.

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AJ Wright

AJ Wright is a quiet yet incisive voice navigating the surreal world of sociology, higher education, and modern life through the unique lens of a neurodivergent mind. A tech-savvy PhD student hailing from South Yorkshire but now stationed in the flatlands of Lincolnshire, AJ writes with an irreverence that strips back the layers of academia, social norms, and the absurdities of daily life to reveal the humour lurking beneath.

As an autistic thinker, AJ’s perspective offers readers a rare blend of precision, curiosity, and wit. From dissecting the unspoken rituals of academia—like the silent war over the office thermostat—to exploring the sociology of “neurotypical small talk” and the bizarre hierarchies of campus coffee queues, AJ turns the ordinary into something both profound and hilarious.

AJ’s unassuming nature belies the sharpness of their commentary, which dives deep into the intersections of neurodiversity, tech culture, and the often-overlooked quirks of human behaviour. Whether questioning why university bureaucracy feels designed by Kafka or crafting surreal parodies of academic peer reviews, AJ writes with a balance of quiet intensity and playful absurdity that keeps readers coming back for more.

For those seeking a blog that is equal parts insightful, irreverent, and refreshingly authentic, AJ Wright provides a unique perspective that celebrates neurodiversity while poking fun at the peculiarities of the world we live in. Also a contributor at Thinking Sociologically.

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