The Post Online - The Family Guy by Brett Buckner

March 22, 2010

Working from home can have its pitfalls

It is the first question I get when anyone finds out that I'm a freelance writer. “Dude, what's it like getting to work from home?” they'll say in a tone crisp with curious envy.

“It oozes with awesome,” I'll answer, rolling my eyes. “Every single day is a joyful adventure.”

I'm intentionally sarcastic because there's a certain guilt that comes from being home all day, writing, reading, Googling weird things on the Internet while the rest of the world is crammed in cubicles, cursing their bosses and loathing their co-workers.

Here, I'm the coolest guy in the office. But working from home has pitfalls that can suck the life out of any mere mortal who is unprepared to duel to the death with their muse.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't relish every minute of it and thank My Lovely Wife for accepting a job that allows me to live in the style to which I've grown accustomed. And while I don't miss editors looming over me like the Grim Reaper, I do miss the chaos of the newsroom.

Not even an iTunes playlist crammed with death metal can recreate the swirling madness and gallows humor that festers in a newsroom, where a dozen or more overworked, underpaid and exceedingly caffeinated journalists are stomping around, stressing over deadlines, nagging reluctant sources, hovering over non-ringing telephones and shoveling copy like they were working in the fiery furnaces of hell all while simultaneously scrounging for something sardonic to write on their Facebook status.

Ah … the good ol' days.

But, unlike Eddie Money I don't wanna go back and do it all over.

I love writing from home, where I can actually concentrate because no one's popping up over the cubicle to ask for another word for “said” or how to spell “parallel.”

But there are still times when it sucks out loud.

Take now. My Lovely Wife is cooking barbecue ribs for dinner. Yummy, right? Not when she's left them stewing in the crock pot for the past six hours. The smell of that juicy meet practically dripping off the bone has been wafting through the house all day.

Food is the greatest temptation (that and the occasional Internet pop-up window). During my newsroom days, I lived off peanut butter crackers, Dr. Pepper and coffee. Now, there's Pop-Tarts, Hot Pockets, sandwich meat, Granola Bars, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Fritos and Cheez-Its, not to mention the leftovers.

By mid-afternoon I've got the munchies worse than Cheech & Chong and such snacking is starting to show as I'm one Puddin' Pop away from looking like Jaba the Hut in a Tesla T-shirt.

Then there are the days when it's all research and interviews, brainstorming and transcription. This is the monotonous side of journalism, Instead of writing, I'm thinking about writing, which isn't nearly as productive.

With boredom seeping in like Play-Doh through a toddler's clinched fist, a diabolical voice in the back of my brain whispers, “Is noon too early for a beer? Come on, who's gonna know? Just one beer, then a nap, then a few minutes watching the women on "The View" and we'll get right back to work … promise.”

But my will (otherwise known as soul-crushing shame) is strong. I resist the temptation … generally, slamming my office door and staring at the computer screen until beads of blood appear on my forehead.

Now that's what I mean by oozing awesome.

Brett Buckner is an award-winning former columnist for the Anniston Star. He lives in Columbus, Ga. with his wife, daughter and stepdaughter. His humor column appears regularly in The Post. Contract Brett at brett.buckner@yahoo.com.