WFH: Week Zero

The message landed in my inbox on Thursday night: As of Friday, March 6, working from home was an approved (voluntary) option.

Restrictions had been escalating rapidly at the office—no international travel, all visiting workers required to return to their home locations, exhortations to stay home even if you were sure your sniffles were nothing more than seasonal allergies.

I was uncomfortable about the close quarters on our commuter shuttles. Just a couple of weeks ago I'd moved several rows back when the guy in the seat behind me kept coughing. And coughing. And coughing. Maybe it would be better to bike to work, now.

But then, I'd become increasingly uneasy with the (deficient) hygiene practices of some of my coworkers. A woman who leaves the restroom without washing her hands; this week, a guy who repeatedly sneezed into his napkin at lunch, repeatedly touched it to his nose, and then ... set it right down on the countertop. [This, after all the public news and all the warnings we'd received internally.] Common sense, as the saying goes, is not all that common.

So that Thursday night, I found a good deal online for a nice “open box” monitor. We'd be in this for the long haul, I reckoned, and my laptop screen would get tiring. External keyboard? [Check.] External mouse? [Check.]

Friday felt ... different. I've worked from home before, typically when I've recovered enough from a cold to be productive, but not recovered enough to mingle with my colleagues. I was focused, I was productive, and I was content to close the laptop at the end of the workday. But I also felt ... lonely.

I was uncertain about traveling to the city on Sunday for the first ballet I would see this season, A Midsummer Night's Dream. I'd never seen it, and San Francisco Ballet hadn't performed it in more than 30 years. I decided I would drive—steering clear of public transit—and if it seemed at all sketchy after I was there, I would leave.

The mayor of San Francisco made the choice for me, shuttering all city-owned venues on Saturday. In our county, the week opened with 7 confirmed cases of COVID-19, and ended with 37 cases (a 5.29x increase).

On Sunday, I made a trip to the office to rescue the plant that lives on my desk.

Over the coming weeks, I'll share some reflections to preserve the memory of this time. And for some color, I'll share a photo of some bit of local flora, for cheer. Hopeful for the future, something is always in bloom.

Thanks to a Guy Named Joe

Once upon a time, some charitably-minded athletes (cyclists, mainly) had an idea. What if you could raise funds for worthy causes, just by riding your bike? Running was okay, too. As GPS-enabled devices became common, it was easy to record and verify the distance you'd traveled. Smartphone apps later made it even easier to track and upload activities.

Plus3 was born. Strava did not yet exist.

I signed up in November, 2008. In the early days, the founders lined up non-profits (like Trips for Kids) and companies willing to donate a pot of money (like Ritchey). Each Plus3 member chose a cause, and each activity earned points that allocated small amounts from a sponsor's pot for that cause. The payout rates shifted over time, but even pennies add up.

The idea, in part, was to motivate people to be more physically active. There were leaderboards, challenges, and prizes, and many more qualifying activities were added (like healthy habits, volunteering, carpooling). The model shifted toward the corporate world: to encourage employees to be active and make healthy choices, a company would sponsor a cause.

That shift seemed brilliant to me (but, what do I know?). My employer had run a similar sort of program in-house to encourage “self-powered” commuting. When they shut it down, I failed to persuade them to engage with Plus3. They chose, instead, a personal-incentive-based program where cyclists (only) can redeem points for things (water bottles, socks, tote bags). [Sigh.]

Plus3 found a niche for some early, loyal members (like me) who weren't aligned with their new model. There were only a handful of folks in our little corner of Plus3, and I didn't notice how much the overall participation had dwindled until they sent me a message at the end of last year that they were shutting down.

Plus3 moved more than $3 million to charities around the world; my personal tally, they tell me, was $1,942. Mostly by riding my bike (more than 3,100 trips) and walking (more than 1,900 trips). Over 11 years, I logged about 40,000 miles and more than 5.5 million steps.

I was sad, but a colleague who spent many years in the non-profit world was not surprised. It seemed like such a great idea, and a sustainable model, to me. But, what do I know?