Be Human
Welcome to part two of a three-part series, in which I attempt to make sense of the various possible workplace trends coming out of the response to COVID19.
There’s nothing like a global pandemic to remind you we’re all equally human. For me, watching places I knew well in Italy go into lockdown and worse – the idea of an Italian funeral for a lost loved one without mourners – was when it really hit home how serious our situation was.
This idea of common humanity has spread into our workplaces as well – whether we were prepared for it or not – the minute we took our workplaces into our homes. We’ve all had the cat’s bottom appear in the Zoom call or the dog barking in the background, the kid who wants food or just to be in the picture – that BBC commentator didn’t know how prescient his on-air experience was!
As for the some of the hairstyles (if that’s what you call them) or fashion choices – one wonders whether we will ever go back to business attire as it was, pre-COVID19. So all of a sudden, that formidable, formal senior executive who we used to dread going to see, or that guy we hardly new from a different section, have become familiar. The veneer has come down and we’ve seen ourselves as humans just muddling along as best we can.
We’ve also stopped treating ourselves in such inhumane ways. Those people whose lives were spent on a plane to go to meetings all over the country, have suddenly found they can be there without the lost travel time, time differences and separation from home and family. Even the National Cabinet has been meeting virtually. When Clive Palmer threatens to go to the High Court to be allowed to fly into WA for a meeting, the first thought (for me at least) was ‘dude, have you heard of Zoom?’
Perhaps the most human thing we’ve done while we’re at home is we’ve connected – with our neighbours, with essential workers (who frankly should be getting the love all the – here’s looking at you medical staff, teachers, emergency services and garbos), with distant family and friends. We’ve seen politicians (mostly) collaborating, medical researchers being funded properly, and we’ve come together in poignant ways. For me, the solemn beauty of walking out to the end of the driveway on ANZAC Day and gazing down the street to a silent constellation of flickering candles, will be remembered forever.
As I hope, will the human connections we created when we needed them most. How will you keep them alive?
