When I was an elementary school kid it seemed to snow all the time. Our suburban bus stop in winter had us kids standing outside braving the cold and snow. On multiple occasions we built a snow-wall in the middle of the street with the idea of making the street impassable for the school bus and thus engender an impromptu snow day. We were always unsuccessful but that never stopped us from trying the next time.
It is Friday afternoon here in snowy Connecticut with as many as 20 inches of snow (50 cm for my non-US readers) or more forecast for much of our area. Boston is supposedly going to get the worst of it. Our office in New York was ‘closed’ today – that is team members were not mandated to make the trip in from wherever they were in the greater New York City area. Of course our intrepid creative director made it in working alone – probably happily so with rock-out music playing as loudly as he desires.
I left work just after 12:30, ran a few errands and made it home before 1:30 as the snow had already accumulated to four or five inches and the roads were bad. Not all that long ago, people would leave early on a ‘snow day’ and work their collective way home (or wherever else) and that would be the end of their work contribution for the day. No more calls. No more communication. And people outside of the area would understand and they’d actually be both thankful to miss it, and concerned for those of us having to suffer through winter’s punch. Those days are over.
Those days are over because when I got home I immediately went back to work answering emails, working on reports and presentation, taking conference calls and basically working nearly the same as I would when I am in the ‘office’. In a bit of a nostalgic way I fondly recall staring out at the snow falling, not being able to do very much and dealing with the prospect of not being able to go out for what could be 18-24 hours. Trapped at home during a blizzard was actually a fun and memorable experience in an odd way. It’s great that we can all be productive just about anywhere we are but sometimes little things that may not appear to be significant (but really are) get lost in the interest of progress.
There’s a part of me that wishes to turn off the computer, stop reading email, build a cozy fire and open a bottle of claret (ok I don’t actually have any claret so wine will have to do) and stare outside at the beautiful and peaceful snowfall as darkness begins to fall. And then I think about the shovel standing outside and seemingly calling my name.
How do you feel about being trapped inside during a snowstorm?