Camera ready

Now that we're seven months into the new Zoomconomy™, there are more things to think about than ever before.

Wear your mask. Wash your hands. Wipe down the deliveries. Remember to social distance (I work in ad agencies - I've been doing that for years). But now, there's one more thing to pile on the to-do list in the new world order.

Dressing my room for Zoom.

Like most people I know, I'll be working remotely from home for the foreseeable future. So I planted a flag and claimed a small yet comfortable space to set up shop in my bedroom. The wife bought me a nice wooden table desk that fits just swell under the bedroom window, and looks out onto the lawn and flowers in our front yard.

As far as views go, I file it under things could be worse.

Sitting on the desk is my company monitor and laptop, as well as my personal laptop. With all those screens it looks like Mission Control, except I have trouble launching Photoshop much less rockets. There's also a desk lamp, along with several Hydro Flasks (hydrate people, can't stress it enough).

The problem is when I'm on a Zoom call, you can see most of my bedroom, including the not-as-firm-as-it-used-to-be-oh-my-aching-back California King bed behind me. So now, in addition to everything else to worry about, I have to get up early to make the bed and dress the room for showtime—the many Zoom calls I'll be on during the day.

I suppose I could take the easy way out and use a virtual background. The one with the wind blowing the palm trees is nice. So is the Golden Gate bridge. I've even added the hallway from The Shining and the lunar surface as options. But it's always a little distracting when several people on the call are using the same background. And if we're all in the same place, why do we have to have a Zoom call in the first place, amIrite?

Also, Zoom hasn't quite mastered the fine art of green screen. Using virtual backgrounds makes various parts of my face, fabulous head of hair and ripped (fat) body disappear while I move around during the calls. Mostly to drink from one of the Hydro Flasks.

So here's the new early morning routine: make the bed. Arrange the mountain of pillows the wife stores on the bed. Put the Thunder Road street sign my daughter gave me on top of the lamp next to my headboard, because, you know, Bruce. And make sure all the books on my night stand are facing spine out towards the camera, so everyone can see all my anti-Trump reading material.

If I was working in the office I wouldn't be able to make any political statements. But this is my house, so Fuck Trump.

The worst part of this work from home deal is getting up early. I've been called a lot of things, but morning person isn't one of them. Currently my iPhone alarm has Uptown Funk set to eleven to jolt me up in time for the daily show. But given the situation, I'm thinking of changing it to something more subtle, yet appropriate.

Like a stage manager screaming "Five minutes! Places people!"

Back to bed. Again.

Sometime about three years ago, I posted this piece about my disdain for morning and almost everything related to it. I thought it might be a good time to revisit it because now, in this strange time, I can sleep in as late as I like and I'm able.

I have great admiration for all those working from home and maintaining their morning routines of early to rise, then getting dressed and ready for work so they look sharp and alert for their morning Zoom conference call.

I know we're all in this together, and I want you know I stand with you.

On everything but this part.

I am many things. Funny. Good looking. Talented. Creative. Compassionate. Encouraging. Well read. Kind to children. Nice to the waitstaff. A catch as a husband. Someone who loves doing laundry. And loading a dishwasher. A good friend. A trusted confidante. An excellent driver. A great kisser. And definitely humble.

However one thing I am not now, nor have I ever been, is a morning person.

Mornings are just a cruel tease. Being a late night person, I rarely get to sleep before midnight or one in the morning. I say sleep in the loosest sense of the word. It's been years, literally, since I've slept eight hours straight through. I get up to pee. Or I startle awake from a dream. Sometimes I'm just restless and watch some TV at three in the morning to take the edge off (because nothing takes the edge off like skin care and exercise equipment infomercials). Occasionally my eighty-five pound German Shepherd launches himself up on the bed in the middle of the night.

That gets the old ticker going.

Oddly enough, one thing that never, and I do mean never, keeps me awake is work. I think it comes from so many years as a freelancer. But the second both feet are out of the office, I don't think about anything related to work until I have to be back the next morning.

And we know how I feel about mornings.

The point of all this, and there is one, is that right around the time the faintest sliver of sunlight starts to hit the pitch black night sky is the exact moment I actually manage to get myself back to the deep, still sleep I've been craving all night. It finally arrives just in time for sunrise. Ironically when I'm finally completely out, it's time to wake up.

There's no gradual, gentle, coming-up-from-the-bottom-of-the-pool kind of awakening for me. Because I know how deep asleep I am in the morning, the alarm has to be more than a light bell, chirping birds or a digital alarm. No, my iPhone alarm is Uptown Funk. It comes on loud, and it's a straight up jolt out of bed. In fact, I have to kiss myself I'm so pretty (see what I did there?).

So if you see me at work in the morning around nine, dragging myself around, looking somewhat foggy and I don't return your smile or your hello, don't ask how you're doing or what you're working on, please don't take it personally. I promise I will.

Sometime around eleven.

Back to bed

I am many things. Funny. Good looking. Talented. Creative. Compassionate. Encouraging. Well read. Kind to children. Nice to the waitstaff. A catch as a husband. Someone who loves doing laundry. And loading a dishwasher. A good friend. A trusted confidante. An excellent driver. A great kisser. And definitely humble.

However one thing I am not now, nor have I ever been, is a morning person.

Mornings are just a cruel tease. Being a late night person, I rarely get to sleep before midnight or one in the morning. I say sleep in the loosest sense of the word. It's been years, literally, since I've slept eight hours straight through. I get up to pee. Or I startle awake from a dream. Sometimes I'm just restless and watch some TV at three in the morning to take the edge off (because nothing takes the edge off like skin care and exercise equipment infomercials). Occasionally my eighty-five pound German Shepherd launches himself up on the bed in the middle of the night.

That gets the old ticker going.

Oddly enough, one thing that never, and I do mean never, keeps me awake is work. I think it comes from so many years as a freelancer. But the second both feet are out of the office, I don't think about anything related to work until I have to be back the next morning.

And we know how I feel about mornings.

The point of all this, and there is one, is that right around the time the faintest sliver of sunlight starts to hit the pitch black night sky is the exact moment I actually manage to get myself back to the deep, still sleep I've been craving all night. It finally arrives just in time for sunrise. Ironically when I'm finally completely out, it's time to wake up.

There's no gradual, gentle, coming-up-from-the-bottom-of-the-pool kind of awakening for me. Because I know how deep asleep I am in the morning, the alarm has to be more than a light bell, chirping birds or a digital alarm. No, my iPhone alarm is Uptown Funk. It comes on loud, and it's a straight up jolt out of bed. In fact, I have to kiss myself I'm so pretty (see what I did there?).

So if you see me at work in the morning around nine, dragging myself around, looking somewhat foggy and I don't return your smile or your hello, don't ask how you're doing or what you're working on, please don't take it personally. I promise I will.

Sometime around eleven.

Hot enough for ya?

If you know anything about me from this blog, and I’m guessing you probably know more than you want to, you know I’m most definitely not a morning person. The reason I’m not a morning person is because I’m a late night person. I’ll stay up until all wee hours of the morning, catching up on shows I have waiting for me on the DVR, binging again on Breaking Bad, or thinking of things to post on this blog.

Which as anyone who reads it will tell you I have mixed success with.

To the point. I had a 10 a.m. meeting this morning. You’d think because I knew about it last night I would’ve gone to bed early in order to wake up early. You’d be wrong.

So when the alarm went off, I shuffled into the shower (no, it didn’t wake or refresh me), got dressed and headed out to the office to be in by 9 to prepare for the meeting.

And by prepare, I mean get coffee, chat it up, check Facebook, read Round Seventeen, and then, if there’s time, take a look at what I’m supposed to be presenting.

Being disciplined and focused has never been my strong suit.

Anyway, apparently I forgot about the fight the 405 south and I had years ago. To this day, it still spends every waking moment trying to exact it's revenge with me. And it succeeded this morning. Traffic was more horrendous than usual, so I was forced to get off and take surface streets into work in order to make it on time.

I rolled into the parking lot at 9 straight up, only to be greeted by people pouring out the doors of the building, a fire truck parked in front of it and people in bright orange vests, who looked like Walmart greeters, directing everyone to the far side of the parking lot away from the building.

Not being awake enough to really have anything register, I started walking into the building. I was stopped by one of the greeters, who told me it was a fire drill. It’s the exercise office buildings are required to go through to make sure they’re ready in case The Towering Inferno 2 ever gets made, and they use their building.

Once the drill was over, everyone went back into the building. Since everyone who was going to be in my meeting was in the parking lot, the meeting got pushed back almost an hour.

Nevertheless, I learned a valuable lesson about fire safety, taking the stairs and staying calm in an emergency.

I also learned to sleep late even when you're not supposed to. It won't matter.

Yours, mine and hours

If you know anything about me - and you probably know more than you want to already - you know I'm not by any definition a morning person. Every day, without fail, morning gets here too quickly (it might have something to do with me going to bed after midnight every night, who's to say). I find just as morning rears its ugly, ugly head happens to be the exact same time I finally hit my deepest sleep.

Then, thanks to a clock, my wife, a kid or the dog, it's BAM! - wake up little prince.

When I'm up and moving around in the morning, it's actually not in a truly wakeful state. It's more controlled sleepwalking until I can get the haze out of my head, stop bitching about being up so early and actually get the day going.

What does help, and it's not often I say this, but fortunately I'm in advertising.

Anyone who's ever worked in the creative department of an agency knows the hours we keep are anything but conventional. Creatives don't arrive until anywhere from 9 to 11, and don't leave until between 5 and 10.

My sweet spot is the 9:30 range. By then I'm awake, I'm alert and not only am I ready to hit the road running, I'm ready to work smart.

The working smart part is the reason I'm not one of the creatives there until 10 or later.

My pal Rich Sigel at Round Seventeen wrote a great post about not working late unless it's absolutely necessary. Which on the rare occasion it is. But for the most part, working into the night, eating bad pizza and hanging out with the boss who doesn't want to go home for reasons only he/she knows is a suck-up move.

It can be a test of loyalty. I can be loyal without taking the test.

In more conservative, traditional industries - like insurance, law, finance or government for example - it's difficult for people to understand the laxness when it comes to workday hours in the agency business.

I'd be happy to meet with them one morning and explain it. Anytime after 11.