Returning to offices

The idea that everyone who does ‘information work’ will return back to a physical building to do their ‘thing’ after the pandemic has really had it’s way, is an interesting one. I’ve been thinking about this on a daily basis, unsurprisingly, and I’d like to speculate on it a little more.

It happened overnight

I think this is how it felt for most of us – pretty damn sudden. I didn’t initially register the shock of enforced homeworking in a way that was particularly deep, but recently that’s changed. It is starting to feel like something’s attached to my skull and it’s getting tighter. This feeling fluctuates of course, but it exists and it’s very real all the same.

I’ve generally always had a designated space to work in. I’ve also worked for organisations that are pretty flexible when it comes to working remotely. That flexibility is partly about how they’re set up to handle remote activity from a technology point of view. As a contractor, I’ve seen that some organisations could easily move to an almost fully remote workforce, as their output is largely digital, somewhat ethereal, and adds yet more ones and zeros to the great grey seaside of the internet. With the introduction of some type of central or localised hub working space, they might even be able to fulfil some psychological needs. By that, I mean the need for humans to have some engagement on a three dimensional (non-cyber) basis. This isn’t possible from home, especially with children being home-schooled, where the situation I’ve witnessed at a safe and childless distance appears to share the characteristics of a mental and physical combustion chamber. At best, I can only try to imagine this experience.

Some organisations have had to change their provision for remote working immediately. It’s almost as if the only things separating them from their glass, concrete and airconditioned past is one night of intense activity in order to flip the lid to remote. For these organisations, working from home is still a novelty, and the challenge of doing so is cause for celebration. Half a worker’s daily achievement is measured on their ability to successfully be present in meetings at all. This is not an attack. It’s simply a fact.

Coinciding changes

At 26, I would never have imagined our situation. Then it was 2011 – four digits that now seem to represent a lifestyle documented, but never actually lived. How can I prove that I used to skate the Moorgate bars, and who would care? Of course, I need to be careful not to confuse personal past experiences with those of society at large. The Coronavirus wasn’t the only factor that wiped my social indulgences off the map. I helped that along myself. but I know that I began increasing the distance between offices and myself about 5 years ago. The pandemic has simply pushed the remote working thing to its extreme. I think if I asked most people, they’d say that working from home on a permanent basis is psychologically unsatisfying, and could even be damaging. Personally, I feel there’s something about being around other human beings that jolts my inspiration as a writer.

The next stage

I think that both private and public sector organisations will err on the side caution for a while yet. At least until the summer months coincide with a possible increased handle on the virus. And this is purely guesswork. Life and our environment has never been predictable. It’s our controlled and conditioned lifestyles that separate us from chaos. I think we could be working from home for at least another 12 months, with the odd controlled visit into the office. The risk of the UK health system collapsing under the pressures of Coronavirus treatment means simply that office life doesn’t pay. Allowing people to work in close proximity to each other with no compelling need has little justification. But this was the case before the pandemic hit. In the past, you’d have found me cursing the daily commute, and dreaming of a fully remote working future. A year from now I might on a waiting list of people trying to secure office time.

Positive IT contractor traits

I’m talking to whoever you are

This blog is mainly for anyone new to IT contracting, as well as those who’ve not been at it that long. That includes me, by the way. I’ve been a contract digital content specialist since 2015. I realise how short a time that is when I speak to people who’ve been contracting for 20 years plus. Despite my relatively short time behind the contractor wheel, I’d argue that experience doesn’t purely come from duration – or length of exposure. For example, someone who takes on short-term projects (3 months or less) is necessarily able to concentrate the breadth of their learning into a shorter space of time. They are constantly painting themselves into different scenarios. I admire – and see the benefits – of this, and long to be in a position to challenge myself at that pace in future. I want my career to resemble a mosaic, not an undulating haze. I’ve mentioned in previous posts that I’ve always felt a preference for contract-style working rhythms over permanent. I believe that my desire for contracting has been evolving some years before I turned it into a way of life.

Adapting to each new contract

You’ll be expected to expand and contract your sphere of expertise depending on a client’s requirements. These might change as the job progresses, but will generally stay consistent. As a quick analogy, let’s take the work of Francis the lumberjack. Francis has a number of skills. His talents go beyond being able to chop down trees in such a way that they fall in a safe and preordained direction. In fact, he’s pretty good at managing entire teams of other lumberjacks. Oh, and by the way, he didn’t start his life helping to fell vast concentrations of pine trees. He spent a good part of his 20s and 30s as a carpenter. For argument’s sake, let’s say that Francis is 45. The man’s got skills, and they might come in useful in a way that might not be obvious to, say, a tree. But not every job he takes on is going to demand all of what he can offer. Some jobs might simply require him to wield his chainsaw to positive effect. On such jobs, Francis might have a desire to show some other things he knows. His colleagues on that particular project might even ask to see a flavour of his other skills and experience. But don’t forget, on this one he’s being paid to decapitate trees.

A similar experience, but nothing to do with axes and trees, and stuff

I understand Francis’s dilemma. I once took a 2 week contract at a marketing agency. At the time, I’d worked as a content designer in the public and charity sectors for several years. My skills extended beyond the careful manipulation of words. I mean, if called upon, I can churn copy out, or move vast amounts of words from an old website to a new one (content migration). If these are the requirements, I switch my brain over to mechanical mode and get producing. Obviously I plan, structure, think, but only to a point where I feel these activities serve the needs of the job. On a side note, sometimes it’s best to produce something just to:

• find your way
• help you plan
• get feedback

At the start of the 2 week gig, I mentioned that I’d been working as a content designer for the last few years. I dropped some buzzwords: user needs, Agile, service design. I assumed that the content lead for the job knew what I was talking about. His response (‘that should come in really useful’) suggested he did. In reality, I was there to move words (wholesale and almost entirely unedited) from an ancient monstrosity of a website to a content management system for a new one. For anyone who has even the slightest idea of designing a good user experience, the approach I’ve just described is categorically not content design. It shouldn’t even be parked alongside a sentence with the word ‘design’ in it. But the requirement was clear. I was there to help a group of interested people drive towards an outcome. Despite the fact that I hadn’t sharpened any blades, they’d hired me to be an axeman.

Analyse your position in the world of work

As an IT contractor, you should practise getting the precise expectations of each new client clear in your head. Play to the desired outcome. This simple view does gain levels of complexity in the role of content design, and is a constant process of checks and balances. That’s partly why I love the job so much. It’s open, variable, changing, and to a great degree, mirrors the characteristics of contracting.

If you think you’ve been hired just for your technical expertise, then look a bit deeper. In many circumstances, a client will also bring you on because they see you as the glue between processes and people. These converging and contrasting elements of a project need to meld in order for delivery to happen. You’ll need to evolve beyond your specialism (which might be writing fantabulous sentences) if you land a project where the:

• team are newly formed or still forming
• ways of working are still being established
• precise scope of the work and your related involvement hasn’t been determined

Personally, I’m a big fan when things looks like this. All bags of newness and unchartered territory. But don’t forget, if you choose to take on a contract, then you also choose to play by its rules.

How to know if a job is working out

For this blog I’m going to pretend that I’m in conversation with a 20-something me. There I was at 22, full of personal philosophies and misdirected half-wisdom. Now that I’m sitting comfortably across the table from my younger self, I’m going to allow my imagination to leap. I’ll pretend that I have a captive audience (laughing) of freshly graduated employees waiting to hear what I have to say. The first two things would be: try to relax more, and getting older really does help with self confidence, if only through the magic of familiarity with – and exposure to – your environment.

Trust your emotions

This is sometimes known as ‘going with your gut’, which can also lead directly to your closest gastrointestinal specialist. For the purposes of this advice, I’m going to focus on permanent, full-time work, if that’s your fancy. Personally, I gained most of my professional mastery as a contractor. Putting that aside, how you feel in any role is important. This applies from the time you read a job description, to starting on your first day. On a number of jobs I’ve taken, I’ve kept a work journal. Over a period of say 3 to 6 months, this has allowed me to chart my emotional reactions over time. It’s almost not worth including the first month, as this generally always feels like someone’s pouring you tonic faster than you can drink it. If a job is genuinely offering you a valuable experience, the emotional trajectory should be an upward one. Start a work journal, then pick through it after 3 months. See how the job fits.

Sometimes stick it out

There are many reasons why a good number of people have to stick jobs out: bills, mortgage payments, child payments, and various other ‘real adulthood’ stuff. I’m choosing here to focus on a time in life when career experimentation – and it’s freedoms – are generally more common – i.e. for those making their way into the market.

Don’t give up too soon. Life’s responsibilities aren’t the only reason to persist. For example, take time to consider the breadth of experience you might be gaining, and what you might do with it down the line. This includes how you might learn to articulate that experience with a greater degree of eloquence, all in the name of persuasion. Hang around another 3 months and you might find that things get better. For example, that cherished individual who’s been looking to battle you with a rolled-up A4 pad has left. Maybe you’ll even manage to get more control over the output of your work. Return to your work journal, analyse what’s there, but don’t panic. Panic means less pay, and potentially, an unsmooth exit.

Try not to blame specific people

This includes yourself. It’s easier to draw quick conclusions about why a job’s not working than it is to analyse the subtleties. Sometimes the detail is where you’re likely to find the real issues. Three last things then. Keep both eyes open when taking a job. Maintain a written record of what’s going on – use a journal. Follow your emotional trajectory. Most decisions become easier with evidence, perspective, and emotional proof.

Some tips for finding new business as a content writer

This post could be useful for you if you’re a freelance or contract:

• copywriter (mainly web)
• content writer
• content designer
• web content manager
• editor

There’s never a bad time to look for freelance writing work, or even small projects where an intense burst of work is needed. There’s also no magic number for the length of time you should spend doing your research. It’s whenever you get a spare moment. Just spending 10 minutes jotting down names of companies you’d like to do work for or industries you’d like to work in, is useful. Everything’s a start And starting is good.

How I start

The processes and frame of mind required to write and edit for a living is surprisingly unlike that for finding new business. Most writers enter a reclusive bubble to focus on their craft. As writing is an art form, this is entirely necessary. By our very nature, we’re not naturally suited to selling ourselves. We’re at our best when quietly sharpening sentences, turning acid bowls of thorny, complex copy into the milk and honey readers deserve.

I start with what I know. And what I know is the industries I’ve already worked in. These include charity, vocational and higher education, financial technology (Fintech) and government. It’s healthy and necessary to look for work outside of your familiarity zone, but use it as a start. You’ll also be used to some of the language and terms used in the industries you’ve already worked in. Make a list of every single industry you’ve worked in. You may have even worked in industries you didn’t realise you’ve worked in, but until you make a list you won’t have a clear idea of the extent. As part of this process you might find that certain industries are known by different names. Once you’ve made your list, search Google to get a little refinement so you’re sure that your list of names is accurate.

The speculative business letter

Jane Austen used to write a lot of letters. They are works of art. But remember what you’re trying to do here – trying to find out if there may now, or in the future, be a need for your service in the most economic way you can. Some people say that forging an immaculate business letter and then posting it to a hiring manager is a worthwhile approach. Well, it is novel, and of course it might set you apart. But there is a quicker, less time consuming, and ultimately more tree-friendly method for achieving the goal of first written contact. It’s called email. And there is absolutely no good reason why an email can’t deliver the same milk and honey you might have had planned for your paper equivalent.

Or simply go for phone and email

There might be situations where this seems the right thing to do. In those cases, by all means do it. Mostly though, I think it’s just a waste of paper. Pick up your phone and call the company you’d like to offer your service to. Then try and get through to the right person. It’s the next best thing to speaking to them face-to-face. Try and skip the receptionist, the security guard, the third mate, the fourth mate, the ship handler, and anyone else who’s irrelevant to the main goal. Then get the relevant person’s email address. Ask them to read it back to you to check. Be nice. If someone’s rude or evasive, they might just be fighting over a falafel wrap with a seagull. These birds make humans angry because they invoke the law of the jungle we’ve spent so long pretending we’re no longer a part of.

Read ads for permanent jobs

Just because a job says permanent, doesn’t mean an organisation won’t consider taking on a contractor or freelancer. A project has multiple parts, so they might have certain tasks they want completing in isolation. It might also turn out that they’ve tried getting someone permanent (or even fixed-term) and been largely unsuccessful. Put yourself in their shoes. Think about the gaps, not always what’s staring you right in the face. Learn to analyse potential (a tomorrow), not simply the present. The world’s changing constantly. An organisation’s route to getting things delivered is rarely straightforward. Rather, it can often seem meandering, nonlinear, maybe even baffling.

Keep track of who you’ve contacted

I hate spreadsheets, but they’re useful for keeping track of who you’ve spoken to, about what, and when. There’s also Google Docs (Google’s answer to a stripped down online version of Microsoft Word) for keeping track of details (company / contact name, email address and phone number) of the organisations you’ve contacted. I use Trello to keep track of these details.

Remind yourself that you’re not a fraud

It’s easy to feel like a used car salesman when you’re trying to sell your services. There’s nothing wrong with user car salesman as long as they’re doing their job with honesty and integrity (some may laugh at what I’ve said here). It’s a basic human desire to strike for new opportunities, but sometimes embarrassing and anxiety-inducing to put this into practice. If you’re in content (the ‘Words’ business) like me, it’s generally regarded as a pretty straight up type of industry. Either there’s a need for my service or there isn’t.

Keep searching

It’s not something you stop doing because you’ve got a comfortable looking 6 month contract. A range of things could happen. The client could review the budget. In which case, you’re probably the one costing them the most in the short term. The seagulls could peck you from the seat you’ve grown so used to spinning round in on Mondays. When the seagulls turn up, nobody stands still. Anyone who’s eaten chips on a beach knows to piss off when they arrive.

Quirks of home working

I have a pen and a notebook. My Wi-Fi isn’t broadcasting and all I can hear is running water. I am in commune with readers and writers.

Tomorrow is bin day, which means I’ll go outside. Undulating green hills in the distance. A comfortable haze on the eyes, woken by the cold. The evening before, I was saying how lucky I am. And I am. But tonight I have nothing to say. I make plans at random. I grasp at small pleasures. I rinse happiness from anything and watch it drain. I monitor my psychology for spikes and irregularities.

Water cooler

Do you remember chatting thin air with colleagues? Or someone who could be useful to your work, who might one day open up and tell you their story? I have these moments with my girlfriend now. We’re well rehearsed at speaking to one another. You’d expect to be. Neither one of us finds continuous surprise in the reactions of the other. I certainly won’t be talking to strangers for a long while.

Toilet

I celebrate the proximity of our bathroom. There’s no more squirming in discomfort while listening to something a colleague could quite easily save saying for two minutes. The bathroom is our sunlit saviour, our reading room. I cut my video, mute my mic, and it’s like I’m still there. We’re self-sufficient. We don’t need anyone.

I work

We work from home. We work at home. We live at home – eat at home – evening at home – at home in the evening – home by night – at breakfast – in meetings – meet no one – see no one – like a space station – six pods – one for sleeping. On one of these days we will redefine the boundaries between escape and reality, and do this in just the way we feel like.

We drink

We measure our intake. Wednesdays are drink days. We need space from the insides of our heads. Escape from internal movement and digital rhythms.

Coffee

I bought a grinder to grind coffee beans. Somehow I needed a slice of office furniture. To the right of me under our desk is a metal filing cabinet. I keep information inside. I feel paper and breathe text…

This used to be my life

Hello, I’m writing again, beginning with a pen and paper, but without the slightest provocation. For a flash of your time then, change logic for love, and join me.

What’s changed?

I give great thanks for the first change in my life – I’m writing more. If you like, I’m reconvening with the ghosts of all my unwritten thoughts and momentary ideas. Mainly, I think I have lockdown to thank for this. The current human condition has forced me to buy a first class ticket for travel to my unconscious.

Here are a few snapshots of things that I used to experience before I went into hiding.

Travelling to work

I am a contractor and freelancer, so you’d think that the lack of human interaction wouldn’t bother me so acutely. But it does. Seeing people in the flesh in three dimensions, speaking, sharing and breathing. That’s the kind of trigger I need to be able to remind myself of my true existence. It helps to tell me I’m real. The same applies when it comes to observing total strangers. The main way I used to do this was on my commute to work. Again, the cold wind on my face, repeated challenges of dodging bird seed, dog crap and pigeons provided me with the obstacles of my realness. When a squirrel ran from my approach and shot up a tree, I knew without doubt that I had made a physical influence on the world around me. And how can I forget the geese, whose primordial call would cause me to shiver at the realisation of my own vulnerability as an office plant with typing skills. Yes, this domestic house enclosure we find we’re in has removed many convenient opportunities for a writer’s right to people-watch.

Dabbling in bookshops

One of my countless ways to retreat from society’s fire is by nesting in a private corner of a bookshop. The perfect bookshop experience should begin quietly and progress to silence. Nothing rescues me from overstimulation like turning pages. Most recently, that’s now gone too.

Buying overpriced coffee

Caffeine offers anxiety, but the act of exchanging money for the bubbling comfort of a warm drink has vanished, coffee or not. The passing of objects between people is gradually becoming unnatural, unhygienic, and not to be recommended. I see the odd person sipping an unidentified hot liquid from a sippy cup.

Unexpected conversations

Moving from job to job every 6 months to a year offers another sort of relish. I’m talking about the chance to enhance your understanding of the human experience. Connection. Clearly I don’t need to explain the damage this can do to a writer’s inspiration. But for our species, the rationing of exchange between people is probably the most tragic of losses.

Why I blog

I’ve set myself a New Year’s Resolution to blog more, which is kind of what this post is about. I wrote this suddenly after scheduling another post to go out. This often happens to me. Writing one thing lets loose my drive to keep going.

Why not?

I blog to speak, to exist, simply to write. I don’t know who I am, or what I think, or even how I feel until I commit words to paper. Or in the case of blogging, little characters to the digital ephemera of the internet.

I’ve schooled and been schooled in the art of writing ‘useful’, ‘usable’, slick and sumptuous articles. But that’s not everything. I see the world of blogs as being home to a collection of voices – personal intellectual sanctums being set free.

Blogging is writing practise

If nothing else, blogging is the simple act of writing. It’ll set you off to find your voice. If you’re anything like a writer, then you should do it. Writing is a physical pastime like chopping wood or cutting pastry for cookies. It requires serious amounts of repetition. It gives very little in return if you’re looking for a cheap getaway, with the exception of the odd jewel, and that’s if you’ve really put in the hours.

One last thing

Fill up your notebooks. You didn’t buy them to use as paperweights. In fact, you wouldn’t need to keep your paper weighed down if you reapplied all that pressure to one of the pens sleeping in a pot on your shelf. So think with your hands more and blog…

How to stay sane working from home

I’m not a seasoned work-from-homer, but I’ve done my fair share as a freelancer. Some of the biggest perks can actually be a homeworker’s worst enemies when it comes to getting stuff done.

Freedom to wear anything

I’ve known people who work from home wearing pyjamas. And why shouldn’t they? There’s no obligation to adhere to any clothing format or style when no one can see you. But don’t forget that you can see yourself, and the more you notice how comfortable you look, the greater the chance that your brain will trick you into thinking you’re not at work, but about to go to bed. I’m not suggesting you fashion a uniform for work days, but create some boundaries. Clothing is a good start. This can be difficult for people who are allowed to dress casually at work. I know this well, and have found myself pulling out the same raggedy jumper whether working at home or at the office. My advice is to cultivate a level of self respect when working at home. Maybe even try wearing something slightly more formal, or even play with different styles of smart casual home / work wear. The important thing is to get your perception of what’s going on into the sphere of work. Think work, dress work, enable structure.

Freedom to snack like you haven’t eaten for a week

The food item I go for continuously on work at home days is the posh person’s sausage roll. There are delicious (suitably pretentious) snacks on offer in this world, although I wonder whether they’ll be deemed acceptable fare in the weeks to come, when everybody’s beating each other with spam slices. All I’m saying is, with your cosy little fridge closer than it’s ever been for longer than you’ve ever known, you may start hitting the guac and crackers. To prepare yourself, try and make lunch the night before you start your working day. Like your choice of clothes, this is a structural tactic. Plan, stick to it, fight the fight people.

Work environment

I once read a quarter of Stephen King’s Carrie on a toilet. I came round from the experience cold and in pain. Clearly the story got to me. Wait for it, because here comes my tenuous connection, which is, don’t sit too long at your computer, or in any space for that matter. There’s more risk of this happening when you’re working from home. This is because you don’t have to walk to any meetings, get up to go and see someone, or do much else that involves moving. More technically, I might hazard using the term occupational mobility – moving as a necessary part of one’s job. The way to sort this issue is to try and have two spaces you work in, as this creates variety. The other is to drink plenty of water, because, as one of my old colleagues used to say, ‘you can’t pee sitting at your desk’.

There’s a second side to this, and it’s making your work space look like it’s meant for work. If you’re forced to work in your bedroom, then you might need to go as far as throwing a sheet over your bed and pretending it’s a large stack of files you recently ordered for your home office. If you can, try not to work in the kitchen, lounge, living room or bedroom. If that’s not possible, then try reforging your informal spaces to look more formal. For some people, this might just mean tidying up. For reception / living room / lounges, there might be an opportunity to hive off a section just for work. I hasten to use the term ‘productivity’, partly because it doesn’t necessarily apply to your day job, but also because I hate buzz words, which turn everyone into sheep. Baa!

Walk around outside

I’m well aware of the current rules about trips out. You can only ‘go outside for food, health reasons or work (where this absolutely cannot be done from home)’. Okay, so most of the space you’ve got to work with is inside your home. This means you have to turn your food excursions into sightseeing trips. You may have noticed our sun putting itself on display a decent amount recently. It’s strange and kind of lovely. What a juxtaposition to the general feel of the world right now. There are no rules saying you can’t pause to stare longer at natural light flooding the near-empty streets. There’s nothing printed on GOV.UK that says don’t enjoy a moment of reflection on the state of the world. Things are changing for sure, and one of those changes means you’ll be able to see the end of your road. Be human and allow that primordial grasp on your surroundings to sink in. Lastly, there’s no rule about taking a circuitous route to the shops – wink wink!

Create a schedule

If you have a diary (web or paper), use it. Fill it with stuff you want to get done during each week. For work, this should be easier in the sense that you are given tasks to do. If you set aside time at work to do certain tasks, then the same should apply when you work at home. It’s not always easy I know, because those posh sausage rolls are singing to your stomach, but… Try your best not to let too many interruptions in. Communicate with sensitivity and diplomacy to those nearby that you need a certain time to do work, and for a given time, you will indeed be working, and nothing else.

Contact your friends and family

This applies at all times. In the world before this one, and especially when working from home, it’s important to get out of you house / flat / abode. As a side note, I think the current pandemic will do something to the way we perceive interaction. It’s not clear to anyone exactly what that is yet. But with this new flavour of existence, social interaction is now as remote as our work. With that in mind, make sure you organise video chats with friends. Options for video chats include Google Hangouts, FaceTime (Apple), Skype (Windows), and even Slack conference calling. Speak to people, organise something, commit to it, do it.

Set aside time and space for not working

When you’re a writer, this is particularly difficult because professional projects blend straight over to personal work. Of course they’re different in many ways, but the act of being hunched over a laptop and typing is pretty much the same. You need to force yourself to do nothing very much every day. This might include reading a magazine or a book by the way, but not online. Read paper, stare at real print. Stare at a wall or out a window. Allow thoughts to simply flow in and out of your mind.

Exercise

I think Bonson (Bojo/Boris etc) has said we can all exercise outside as long as you stay 2 metres from others. I’m already guilty of using the COVID-19 outbreak as an excuse to not move around very much. But I’m not going to let my own laziness be an excuse not to offer some advice on the subject. Outside you can cycle, run or walk, of course. But inside you can do pushups, like the 50 pushup challenge. The simple pushup is a body-forming all rounder. You can do an indoor HIIT workout (30 minutes of your new time-rich life). Remember to combine a bit of inside and outside living. As I can testify, vitamin D will never quite feel like a replacement for sun on your back.

A working future

This has been eating away at me for some time. I haven’t written about it yet because there are so many potential angles to take. It reaches out to myriad areas of life. In a way this blog is an attempt to begin speculating on what work will look like in say 10 or 20 years time. Maybe it won’t be so different. Those who want to contract or freelance will continue to do so. And people with permanent roles who want to stay in them will work to maintain a level of security. So take this is as the start of an open conversation – maybe even an attempt to help frame what work might mean to us in future. What will the future of work look like? Do we all need to become multi-limbed and nomadic in our working practices? Should we go full-time, fixed-term, mineral, or join in with some fun Deliveroo-style ‘neo-feudalism’?

Human attending robot

During summer last year I went to see if I could talk myself out of buying a Marks and Spencer flapjack. It was one of those little devils that watch you carve an innocent path to the self-service checkout carrying a cool plastic pot of mixed fruit. Well I caved, because the damn flapjack triggered memories of my Nan’s baking like soulless melon slices never could.

As I queued, I saw several customers getting frustrated because their human buying quirks weren’t blending well with unforgiving machines. Their annoyance was made more palpable by how quiet the checkouts were. When I worked at Morrisons (known then as Safeway) I was constantly prodding plastic screens and making minute calculations. I was also accumulating a decent share of box cuts, but that’s a yarn for another time. On that day in summer, in the chilled arena of M&S, I watched as the only flesh and blood worker intermittently burst from sleep into warmblooded movement to press a screen and return to sleep mode.

Repeatedly in Boots I’ve searched for humans who are recognisable employees. Not one of the robot cashiers could tell me where I’d find earplugs, eye drops, or any number of items I might be looking for in a rush. I’ve often had the sensation I’m in the depths of a dream, where I’ve won some kind of strange prize: a 1 hour pass to shop without any human interruption. This is a blissful concept to some, but to others a nightmare full of unattended rows of pills, ointments, lotions and lozenges.

Things to come

The future of work doesn’t just force us to think about:

• peripatetic working
• increased leisure time
• the cost-saving efficiencies of artificial intelligence
• the continuing removal of human involvement in heavy industry
• people growing skills like extra limbs

Aspects of ‘progress’ have seemingly nudged me from beyond my own line of work. Will I one day be curating a cluster of machine authors? If this does happen, will I embrace it, viewing these things with a sense of paternal pride? Whatever the outcome, I’d like to think I was part of a future where our sense of humanity is on the increase, and not our other talent for recklessness.

The usefulness of contracting

Revising your value to the market

Selling your skills to a wider market makes you rethink what it is you can offer at a very basic level, plus what you could offer. For example, you might be a designer or writer, but have you picked up any project management skills along the way? How have you felt when you’ve taken a shot at different types of roles? Remember that if you’re a limited company contractor, it’s a good idea to train yourself to think more as a business than an individual. This mental shift is one of the biggest things to crack. We’re told than no one is an island, but as a company director you are kind of an islet.

In short then, don’t apply too narrow a band to what you can offer now, and what you could offer in future. Changing roles at relative pace will help you pick up skills and experience rapidly. These skills are yours to sell back to the market place. When you use a new programme, tool or application, note it down. If your role takes on a different flavour, like people or project management, think about what that means for the direction of your business.

Re-pitching your skills

Each time you apply for a new contract role something really useful happens. You find you have to articulate and re-articulate your skills and experience. Maybe the role you’re looking at has subtle (or not so) differences to the one you’re already in. This might sound like some people’s idea of washing with a scouring pad, but for me it’s an interesting challenge, and not far off what you’d have to do if you were looking to change permanent jobs. With contracting you sharpen your ability to do this.

Time management

There are different ways to contract. One of them is to set up a limited company. If you do this, then you’ll get into the habit of doing admin. This usually includes:

• documenting your expense receipts
• emailing documents to your accountant, like invoices, mileage and bank statements
• invoicing clients (memory permitting)
• submitting timesheets
• learning the ropes of running a limited company

The instability model

I cooked this one up as an analogy to deal with the relative chaos we exist in. Randomness and chaos appear to work alongside each other fairly comfortably in the wider context of nature. Our desk-jobbing, time sensitive, calendar-managing, Americano swilling lives don’t help us deal with surprises. We’ve trained ourselves to wear order in every different colour, that it even seems disturbing when our brains throw us the most random of thoughts. People have told me that they’ve had ‘the most random day’, as if the rest of the world isn’t off the charts for lack of process and structure.

Contracting helps you deal with this. On one hand you’ve got to handle the shifts and surprises at work, while watching the job market in case your client pulls the plug on your gig. Ever since I started as a contractor almost 4 years ago, I’ve become noticeably better at dealing with surprises. The fact I’m also currently looking for a place to live with my girlfriend helps with that too. But I don’t think I’d be half as malleable as I am now had I stayed in a permanent role.

Confidence

Another useful aspect of contracting is the confidence it gives you. Sometimes this can bleed over into arrogance, which manifests itself as thoughts like:

1. I’m so much more skilled and experienced than everyone around me.
2. The current task I’m working on couldn’t be further below me.
3. The client hasn’t listened to even 25 per cent of the advice I’ve offered. If they had, they’d be 10 times better off.
4. I live to burn incompetence at the root – blah de blah.

Confidence is a lot quieter and more reassured than arrogance. It’s the difference between feeling comfortable or uneasy working with different people and organisations on a fairly regular basis. You might find you get this opportunity in the same organisation, but mostly, it’s going to happen as you move roles.

Going permanent

Contracting experience does feed into permanent work, should you decide to take it at some point. ‘Permanent’ doesn’t really mean what it used to, with a good many roles being pitched as fixed-term contract (FTC), or if not, only lasting for around 2 and a bit years in real terms. For example, if a contractor ends up on a job for close to 24 months, then the average permanent job cycle begins to mirror the length of a sizeable contract. The lines between both are continuing to blur.

Finale

To sum up, contracting helps kick people into action. It forces them to continuously rethink what they offer, when, and to what types of organisations. Constantly keeping an eye out for the main chance can be stressful at times, but I think it’s what humans were programmed for. And it’s a small price to pay in the pursuit of becoming a fine-tuned, flexible delivery machine.