A Remote Work Odyssey: My Story

Hello, I’m Vickie, and I’ve spent over 35 years in the technology field. A significant portion of my journey, spanning 20 years, has been spent at the Wallace H. Coulter Department of Biomedical Engineering at Georgia Tech and Emory University. It’s where I had the privilege of serving as a senior web developer. Before that, I honed my skills in various technology roles, building a reputation as a reliable and innovative professional. I’m also a proud U.S. Army veteran, which has instilled in me a strong sense of discipline and commitment to my work.

In recent years, the shift toward remote work has transformed the workplace, a change that many have embraced. For me, working from home felt like a dream come true—like donning a superhero cape and escaping the daily grind of commuting. However, as a Georgia State University employee in 2025, obtaining approval for remote work proved to be quite a challenge, akin to convincing a cat to enjoy a bath.

Since December 2021, I’ve successfully worked remotely and formally requested to maintain my part-time (three days per week) full-time remote status. My reasons were compelling: I found that I was more productive, enjoyed a better work-life balance, and could manage personal commitments without feeling like a circus performer. Additionally, I haven’t had a backup assistant in over seven years, which has effectively demonstrated my proficiency in my position.

The chaos surrounding the return-to-office (RTO) mandate set for August 2025 under new management felt like a bad sitcom—full of uncertainty and frustration. The transition to remote work had been smooth. However, the mandate on returning to the office created widespread confusion on campus and within the department.

I struggled to get any written information about my schedule or expectations for returning to the office. Should I be there five days a week or three days a week? The uncertainty of my office made it impossible to buy a parking pass, adding to my anxiety. It felt like a game of hide and seek, but I was the only one seeking. Then, I learned I would probably be sharing both an office and equipment. After 19 years of having my own space, it felt like a demotion, as if I were being told, “Thanks for your years of service, but we don’t care about you.” Ouch.

Then came my justification letters; instead of a simple “yes” or “no,” my requests were met with a barrage of demands for more justification of remote work. Management wanted to know how my continued remote work would benefit both me and the organization. This led to a frustrating back-and-forth, with me sending three letters, each more detailed than the last. It felt like applying for a loan instead of simply asking to continue working from home. The process was not just bureaucratic; it was a source of significant frustration and stress.

In my first letter, I highlighted my previous successes while working remotely, including completed projects and positive feedback from colleagues. The second letter provided performance metrics that showed my remote work had exceeded expectations. In the third, I outlined specific tasks ideal for remote execution, emphasizing my independence and proven success.

Throughout this process, I was led to believe my request would eventually be approved. Management’s vague responses seemed to indicate that they were seriously considering my justifications, giving me a glimmer of hope—much like finding a forgotten cookie at the bottom of the jar. However, this hope was often dashed by the reality of the situation, leading to a rollercoaster of emotions.

Then, in June, my mother, who lived alone out of state, broke her shoulder. Anticipating that she might need to stay with me while recovering, I requested an extension of my remote work arrangement until the end of August 2025, in case my full-time remote work arrangement was denied. This request was not just about my job; it was about family responsibilities, which I hoped would earn me some brownie points. Spoiler alert: I still hadn’t received those brownies.

The waiting game dragged on for over four months. During this time, I didn’t get a definitive answer about my request. The uncertainty weighed heavily on me, affecting my morale and productivity. It felt like waiting for a text back from someone I just met—awkward and anxiety-inducing. To add salt to the wound, I heard through the grapevine from my manager that my request was unlikely to be approved. It was also disheartening to learn that my request had been in the queue for 22 days with no movement. The lack of progress made me question the efficiency of my leaders.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, I was informed that my request to continue working remotely would not be approved. Management’s reasoning was vague, suggesting discomfort with anyone in the department working remotely, except for positions held outside the state. This decision came after an exhausting process of “jumping through hoops,” leaving me feeling misled and frustrated. The belief that my request would be approved made the rejection sting even more—like stepping on a Lego after a long day. The rejection was not only disappointing but also a source of significant frustration.

It felt as though all my contributions to the department, university, and state were all overlooked in the face of rigid policies and a lack of understanding of the realities of remote work. For the past seven years, I have been managing projects and troubleshooting issues single-handedly. I was often the go-to person, contacted during my off days, evenings, and vacations when web problems arose. My level of commitment should have been recognized and valued, but it was not even acknowledged.

My nearly 20 years with BME came to an unexpected conclusion when I decided to take early retirement. I truly enjoyed my job and collaborating with exceptionally talented colleagues, which made my time there fulfilling and rewarding. However, the ongoing confusion surrounding return-to-office policies became a turning point for me. It highlighted a deeper issue within the department and the university system: a lack of respect, empathy, and support for staff from management and leadership. I found it increasingly difficult to align my values with an organization that prioritizes policies over people, especially in a department focused on health and wellness. Consequently, I chose to leave a role that I once found rewarding, as the ongoing department chaos and cruelty became too overwhelming for me.

It’s time to rethink the necessity of in-office presence for roles that can be effectively performed remotely. For example, why must a web developer drive into the office to remote into an Amazon Web Server that’s not even located in the state of Georgia? Anyone who has navigated through Atlanta, GA, knows the brain-numbing traffic. It’s like going to a restaurant to order takeout—what’s the point? Plus, why are tax-paying dollars from state universities going to out-of-state technology companies when Georgia has talent right here at every university in the state? It’s time to put our local talent to work and keep those dollars circulating in our own backyard.

Throughout my career, I have consistently gone above and beyond in my role, utilizing my own equipment and tools, attending meetings on my days off, and even during vacations. While I take pride in my work, it’s essential to recognize that the push for a “Return to Office” wasn’t about returning to some ill-defined previous efficiency. It’s more like a punitive measure aimed at the “civil servant,” a stereotype that unfairly paints dedicated employees as less committed and the “boogey-women” in public perception.

May my story inspire you to advocate for yourself and push for a workplace that values flexibility, respect, and open communication. After all, we all deserve to work in an environment that supports our well-being and allows us to thrive, whether in pajamas or professional attire.

Here’s to hoping that the next time someone asks for remote work, they won’t have to jump through hoops or wait months for a decision. Let’s make the workplace a little more human, one remote request at a time!

We deserve better, America!

Take away: I got the mini ‘DOGE’ treatment by Chancellor Sonny Purdue. As for Sonny, though, he just scored big! The Board of Regents decided to redistribute those cash savings, giving Sonny a $50,000 salary increase. Now he’s strutting around like a peacock, officially one of the highest-paid state employees in Georgia. Talk about streamlining the government! Sonny’s wallet is about to get so fat that it might need its own zip code, unlike mine!