Fitter and Happier? Work after the Coronavirus

Fitter and Happier? Work after the Coronavirus

“Of all changes that have already been made to mitigate the threat of the deadly virus, the way we work has arguably undergone the biggest transformation.”

“Of all changes that have already been made to mitigate the threat of the deadly virus, the way we work has arguably undergone the biggest transformation.”

Editor’s note: The following is a lightly edited version of the postscript from Al Binns’ forthcoming book The Incredibly Strange Creatures: Or How I Learned to Stop Being a Mixed-Up Zombie and Survive Modern Work!!?. Some of the statistics and figures cited have been updated so as to be current.

While editing this book, the world has been faced with an unprecedented disaster, one whose ongoing and conceivably lasting impact cannot be ignored. On December 31, 2019, the first cases of the flu-like illness, later known as COVID-19, were detected in Wuhan, China. In the months that have followed, the virus has evolved into a global pandemic with at least 83 million cases and approximately 1.8 million deaths.

The alarming eruption of the virus has led many to draw comparisons to a wealth of post-apocalyptic fiction including the American medical disaster film Outbreak and even Emily St. John Mandel’s award-winning novel Station Eleven, in which a virulent new strain of influenza wipes out ninety-nine percent of the earth’s population. While the similitude drawn to these dystopian narratives has seemingly prepared us for a level of devastation akin to that caused by Mandel’s Georgia flu, the extent to which this novel contagion will affect human life is not yet known. Amid the uncertainty about our future with the virus, what is certain is that, by the time this book is published, the world at-large will be a very different place.

Of all changes that have already been made to mitigate the threat of the deadly virus, the way we work has arguably undergone the biggest transformation. The sanctioned lockdowns and subsequent economic downturn have ravaged the retail and hospitality sectors, with millions of people already losing their jobs at the onset of a financial plight set to eclipse the Great Depression. For the past several months, those who have been fortunate enough to escape redundancy and the stasis of the federal pandemic unemployment compensation program—or, indeed, other such temporary wage subsidy schemes—have been faced with making the substantial adjustment to working exclusively from home.

Formerly understood as a euphemism for sending a few emails then kicking back to watch daytime television—a medium previously reserved for students and the long-term unemployed—working from home has long since been considered the Shangri-La of modern work. Sold as part of a utopian vision of the future, teleworking is broadly understood as a consequential step in the natural evolution towards the end of work. The roots of such lore can be found in the work of John Maynard Keynes, who in 1930 predicted that in the next century technology would have advanced sufficiently to allow workers to only work fifteen-hour weeks.

Today, as we are faced with a global pandemic—and with video conferencing software like Zoom and Microsoft Teams facilitating our enforced working from home status—it feels as though we have taken a meaningful step towards this Keynesian prophecy. Certainly, in light of what has already been discussed [in this book], whether it be the zombification and lack of self-worth experienced through the simulation of pointless work or the slow erosion of character and identity suffered through the ever-transient job market, the idea of relocating to the sanctuary of the home, even for the purpose of work, on first blush can only be understood as a welcomed reprieve.

The rest is for members.

All proceeds go toward publishing more writers and poets.

Free for 30 days, then $3 a month

Become a member

Already a member? Sign in.
Can’t pay? Ask us.

Publisher's Note:

This work is preserved in Merion West’s archive of articles and poems published from 2016 through early 2025. Explore the archive