One of the bright spots in the post-COVID, mandatory telework landscape was the upsurge of collaboration clients like Skype, Teams, and Zoom. While the mechanics of these virtual meetings had annoying learning curves as attendees figured out the microphone function, being able to mute people is oddly satisfying. What warmed my heart about the Zoom client, in particular, was that the free version forced a hard stop for all meetings at the 40-minute mark. Before we implemented the enterprise version of Zoom, it was a lovely feeling knowing any meeting attended had a definitive end.
While my uber introvert nature is totally OK and grateful for the privilege of being able to telework far away from people, there are drawbacks to not being in close proximity to the team. For example, it took a week to filter to me through the electronic grapevine that one of my newer colleagues got engaged during his recent vacation. I wasn't able to shake his hand in person, so an email had to suffice to congratulate him on turning in his amateur card and going pro.
One of the sometimes annoying but always entertaining in-person interactions I miss is with Naresh. Emails and Skype sessions lose a lot of nuances, and he sometimes buries the lead. Earlier this year, we'd been Skyping back and forth for 10 minutes before he let slip he was shopping for a baby carriage. "Wait. Hold up. Are you guys pregnant?" He confirmed the news and as hearty as possible congrats were sent across the wire.
Several weeks ago he called to invite me to his baby shower. "Umm. A shower? Aren't showers attended by women only?" He was adamant that both Andrea and I were requested to attend. I immediately IM'd my partner in crime, Zack, whose presence was likewise expected. "Hey, Zack, back in Ethiopia, are baby showers commonly attended by men?" His response was emphatic - "No! Women only." We both concluded Naresh just wanted a party.
The day of the shower was strikingly familiar to me. All shoes were removed at the front door, ethnic food was in abundance, and scores of brown-skinned people were talking to me in a language I didn't understand. It took folks a few seconds, but after being met with my sheepish smile and an apologetic shrug of my shoulders, most folks switched to English along with the "Oh, you've forsaken your culture" raised eyebrow.
Unbeknownst to Zack and me, these shindigs apparently have a standard playlist of games that included the use of diapers and baby bottles as props. I successfully sidestepped these activities but was then handed a piece of paper. Apparently, soliciting guests for baby names is also par for the course. At least I didn't have to think about it too hard as I printed out "GREGORY" on my slip and deposited it in the waiting bowl.
Through it all, Naresh was weaving in and around all the cliques, playing all the games, and being very attentive to his bride. Zack and I were watching all this and nodded at each other. Zack flashed a grin, "Maybe there's hope for him after all."
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