“Zoom Calls in the Time of Coronavirus (Part 1)”
Mary is sitting on her Peloton,
pedalling and talking.
Ben is in his car,
waiting to go into a car wash.
Terry is in his daughter’s room,
surrounded by pink stuffed animals.
Greg is brushing his teeth,
which makes it hard to hear him.
No one cares.
It’s Zoom.
Zoom is from the Greek for
“no one gives a fuck anymore.”
“Shakespeare Never Used the Word ‘Ping’ and Neither Should You”
When you say
“ping me,”
I want to punch you.
It’s true.
“Bio break,” too.
It makes me cringe.
And, if I am being honest,
I don’t care about your ducks or the row they’re in.
I don’t know what “net-net” means
unless it’s being said by an excited tennis announcer.
Come to think of it,
let’s not circle back
or drill down
or take a deep dive
or take it offline
or level the playing field
or create action items.
And I really don’t care
if this won’t scale.
And may I add that,
going forward,
I would like to park this project.
And this job.
I quit.
Now.
Sorry.
I have a hard stop.
“Zoom Calls in the Time of Coronavirus (Part 2)”
Why, yes,
that was my five-year-old son
running back and forth,
nude,
behind me,
shouting,
“Anus! Anus! Anus!”
while the dog barked
and my husband yelled
and I leaned away from the computer
so that no one would hear me scream
“Greg! For Christ’s sake, can you get the fucking kids out of here?!”
and then smoothly sat back up
only to see the rather stunned faces
of my colleagues
and hear my boss
remind everyone
to mute themselves.
“Mythirde-mailtotechsupportregardingmyfreakingstickyspacebar”
Notsureifyoureceivedmypreviouse-mails.
Ihaveastickyspacebarandit’smakingmyworkverydifficult.
Isthereanywayyoucouldgetbacktome?
I’matextension6679.
Ore-mail.
Createaworkorder.
Somesignthatyouareawareoftheproblem.
Becauseitisaproblem.
ClientsarewonderingwhatthehellIam
sayinginmye-mails,
deciperhingthemlikeit’ssomekindof
BletchleyParkthingduringtheSecondWorldWar.
JustanoteontheBletchleyParkthing.
TheyactuallycrackedtheEnigmaCode.
AllI’mlookingforisaloaner!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Zoom Calls in the Time of Coronavirus (Part 3)”
Each of us talked about the past eight months,
about what we’d accomplished
with all this time at home.
I can speak French now, I said.
And I learned the names
of all eighty-eight constellations
in the night sky.
Also karate. I took up karate. Online class.
Unicycling is fun,
if you know how,
and I do now.
This is what I have done
with my time
over the past eight months,
I said.
Wish.
I meant wish I had done
with my time
over the past eight months
instead of what I did do,
which was almost nothing,
except wear the same clothes
day after day,
eat mocha-chip ice cream
for breakfast,
and say things on Zoom calls like
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, what is the point?”
This excerpt is drawn from “Love Poems for the Office,” by John Kenney, out in December from G. P. Putnam’s Sons.
