There’s nothing like being in an office! Okay, I realise that’s kind of a weird thing to say, so let me back up. I’ve just spent the past year and a half living out of a backpack, moving through a variety of accommodations across the South and Central Americas. I’ve lived in tree houses on sustainable cacao plantations, in huts by the beach, in a car… I even took up residence in a tiny pyramid at a retreat centre in Guatemala for a couple of months.
All the while, I’ve been living the life of a so-called ‘digital nomad’, cobbling together a makeshift office anywhere I’m able to plug in my laptop and string together a few hours in which to get down to business. It sounds like a dream come true, but honestly, it’s easier said than done when there’s a monkey rifling through your camera bag and internet access is a mysterious substance that’s bestowed on a blessed few by sheer grace alone.
By the last leg of my trip, I began to find myself dreaming of garden variety, humdrum, run-of-the-mill, commercial office fitouts. Melbourne began to seem to seem like a paradise of power points, ergonomic furniture and task-appropriate workstations, with the whole digital nomad gig feeling like a flimsy illusion.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. I was able to support myself throughout my whole trip by virtue of said illusion, so there’s definitely something to it. I guess I’m still jazzed on the excitement of finally being able to work in one of those custom office interiors Melbourne seems to be so good at, to the point that I’ve been literally dreaming about it. For example, last night I dreamt that I had a job interview in beautifully finished workspace, complete with huge windows and heaps of natural light.
The receptionist was a toucan, and my interviewer was an armadillo. The overriding theme was that I’d applied the wrong dress code – I think I’d gone too casual, judging by the lemur in a collared shirt and tie waiting for his interview.