I have no use for your office.

I recently had the good fortune (</sarcasm>) to come down with a fairly horrible head cold. Aside from contributing significantly to the financial well-being of the makers of the “Congested Stuffy Head, Sore Throat, Cough, Aching, Try-To-Get-Through-The-Day” medicine, I learned something about work.

(Besides the fact that I don’t particularly like the requirement of having to wake up every day to do it.)

My current role is essentially a front-end web developer with some other project-management-y responsibilities. I like it; it suits me. It’s challenging but not to the point where my sanity is in grave danger (at least no more so than it otherwise would be), it satisfies my inner need for problem-solving, and it lets me be online all day long. And I can work from anywhere.

That last part is the kicker. I’ve spent the last five days in self-imposed quarantine (because clearly I value my coworkers’ health more than my own), but only one of those days was spent entirely wallowing in self-pity a cold-induced delirium. The rest were spent working.

After a week of working entirely from home, I realized: I have no need for an office. Sure, it’s handy to be in proximity to some of my coworkers, but let’s face it. We all have phones. We all have email. We all have company-issue laptops. As long as there’s an active internet connection available, we’re connected to the corporate network. What’s the point of going to the office besides having that dedicated “this is where you work” space?

Accounting for the effects of being sick and not having the clearest head, my work was just as solid as any other day in the office. I actually worked even longer and harder this week than most normal days, if for no other reason than to prove to those still in the office that I was in fact working. So why is it that we’re still required to go into “the office” on such a regular basis?

Obviously this only applies to people with jobs that can be done remotely – the burger flipper at McDonalds can’t really work from home, and someone who regularly meets with clients likely doesn’t want them coming to their home.

However, I’m neither of those things, and thus: I have no use for your office. (But I’ll still go since I don’t yet write my own checks.)

How do I figure out my value?

Link: How do I figure out my value?

Value is determined by the scarcity of the merchandise; the more you have something to offer that no one else can provide, the more you’ll get paid.

When anyone asks me, “How do I figure out my value?” I say that value is the greatest amount that someone is willing to pay. It’s incredibly elastic, so it’s crucial that we continually put ourselves in a position to figure out how that value is shifting.

Great article by Whitney Hess on figuring out the difference between your value and your worth. Go check it out.

Learn When to Say No.

The one skill that’s been most helpful to me professionally, more than any tech knowledge, is knowing when and how to say “No.”

Obviously any profession has certain skillsets that are required for basic completion of the relevant tasks. Architects need to be able to sketch designs and understand building stress points. Firefighters need to know how to hook up hoses and where to aim the water for best coverage. I’m a front-end developer; I need to know how to write proper XHTML and CSS, use Photoshop, and manage project timelines.

Even so, none of the various technical abilities I’ve acquired over the years are as important as simply knowing when it’s necessary to say “no” to people. It’s a “soft skill” but it’s just as vital as any knowledge of coding languages, operating systems, or tech support tips. I’ve learned that saying “yes” all the time leads to nothing but stress and ultimately sub-par work. You end up trying to please all the people all the time, and it’s just not doable.

I think too many people have this idea that it’s unacceptable to say no (or worse, to hear it from others). There’s a fear that saying “no” will somehow make them look incapable of handling the work, make them look like they can’t be trusted to get stuff done. They’re half right, technically. There’s a point at which workload outweighs available time, and when that happens the work will suffer, the person will suffer, and the client will suffer.

No one wants that.

I’ve learned — the hard way — that my health (mental and physical) and my output are directly affected by my ability to regulate my workload effectively. Knowing when and more importantly how to tell people that you can’t currently oblige their request is absolutely critical to keeping yourself in balance.

I just wish more people understood that.

Attachments Are Dead

If you send me an email with an attachment, you’ve almost guaranteed I won’t read it.

Maybe there are some exceptions to that rule, but not many. It’s 2010. There’s not really any excuse for sending me a 10MB .wmv file – I can almost guarantee that same video is on YouTube somewhere. If it’s not, I can think of a dozen different sites off the top of my head you could have uploaded it to. Pictures of your kid? Put them on Flickr, or Picasa, or better yet, just don’t send them to me.

Don’t send me an attachment. Send me a link. That 27MB PDF you just sent me? Yeah, I deleted it immediately.

Thoughts? Is this an unreasonable stance?