vox--2020-07-22--Welcome to the July issue of Vox’s The Highlight

Share All sharing options for : Welcome to the July issue of Vox ’ s The Highlight It was clear from the first days of lockdown to forestall the spread of coronavirus in the US that nearly every aspect of life would be transformed .
But perhaps nothing was upended more than how — and whether — Americans work .
Some workers suddenly found themselves dubbed “ essential , ” code for working to keep the rest of society afloat under some of the most tense and dangerous circumstances of their lives .
Meanwhile , tens of millions of other @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and restaurants would find their employment unceremoniously snatched away .
This month ’ s issue of The Highlight explores the state of work , and our cover story looks at what it means to be a small-business owner right now .
What is ahead , says one expert , is “ an extinction-level event ” for the mom-and-pop shops and artists and independent retailers we ’ ve long mythologized as the embodiment of hard work and American entrepreneurship .
Small businesses have been fragile since the Great Recession , their numbers declining for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and the rising risk of doing business .
The pandemic is wiping away many of those that remain .
Also in this issue , we look at the bumpy transition in the arrival of the long-awaited telework revolution .
For remote employees , the toil of meetings and rare moments of deep work are now punctuated by shopping , video games , “ comfort ” TV , and “ doomscrolling.
” With a vast sea of employees now home for the foreseeable future , will “ shirking from home ” define the new @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the end of its six-episode first season in 2005 , nobody involved thought there would be more .
The TV sitcom ’ s inner world is a little gray and drab , a bit like being devoured whole by a week of Mondays .
But teens — who will most likely never work at a paper company — love it .
Their parents , who might be worried about their jobs amid the economic collapse , love it .
And right now , lots and lots of people are using the show to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Finally , we look at the prospects of the next generation , checking in with 2020 ’ s graduating class about the future and exploring why the summer job has all but disappeared in recent years .
The failed dream of the American small business Independent businesses were once pillars of communities , but economic and systemic forces had left many fighting for survival .
Then came the pandemic .
For remote employees , the toil of meetings and rare moments of deep work are now punctuated by online shopping , soothing puzzles @ @ @ @ @ @ @ enduring appeal of The Office in a crumbling world How a nation engulfed by economic precarity turned a TV show about workplace drudgery into an aspirational fantasy .
Meet the 2020 grads entering the bleakest economy in decades “ I think about it every day , maybe even every hour.
” Whatever happened to the classic , teen summer job ?
How summer gigs became a nostalgic relic of the past for many of today ’ s young people .

Share All sharing options for: Welcome to the Work Issue of The Highlight
It was clear from the first days of lockdown to forestall the spread of coronavirus in the US that nearly every aspect of life would be transformed. But perhaps nothing was upended more than how — and whether — Americans work.
Some workers suddenly found themselves dubbed “essential,” code for working to keep the rest of society afloat under some of the most tense and dangerous circumstances of their lives. Meanwhile, tens of millions of other workers eking out livings in retail stores and restaurants would find their employment unceremoniously snatched away.
This month’s issue of The Highlight explores the state of work, and our cover story looks at what it means to be a small-business owner right now. What is ahead, says one expert, is “an extinction-level event” for the mom-and-pop shops and artists and independent retailers we’ve long mythologized as the embodiments of hard work and American entrepreneurship. Small businesses have been fragile since the Great Recession, their numbers declining for years as a result of unfavorable policies and the rising risk of doing business. The pandemic is wiping away many of those that remain.
Also in this issue, we look at the bumpy transition in the arrival of the long-awaited telework revolution. For remote employees, the toil of meetings and rare moments of deep work are now punctuated by shopping, video games, “comfort” TV, and “doomscrolling.” With a vast sea of employees now home for the foreseeable future, will “shirking from home” define the new workday?
And when The Office reached the end of its six-episode first season in 2005, nobody involved thought there would be more. The TV sitcom’s inner world is a little gray and drab, a bit like being devoured whole by a week of Mondays. But teens — who will most likely never work at a paper company — love it. Their parents, who might be worried about their jobs amid the economic collapse, love it. And right now, lots and lots of people are using the show to soothe anxieties both current and eternal.
Finally, we look at the prospects of the next generation, checking in with 2020’s graduating class about the future and exploring why the summer job has all but disappeared in recent years.
Independent businesses were once pillars of communities, but economic and systemic forces had left many fighting for survival. Then came the pandemic.
by Laura Entis
For remote employees, the toil of meetings and rare moments of deep work are now punctuated by online shopping, soothing puzzles, and training new pets.
by Eleanor Cummins
How a nation engulfed by economic precarity turned a TV show about workplace drudgery into an aspirational fantasy.
by Emily VanDerWerff
“I think about it every day, maybe even every hour.”
by Michael Waters
How summer gigs became a nostalgic relic of the past for many of today’s young people.
by Rainesford Stauffer


vox--2020-07-22--Whatever happened to the classic teen summer job?

Part of the July Issue of The Highlight , our home for ambitious stories that explain our world .
In June , because of Covid-19 , Amelia Loeffler , 18 , was laid off from a Kentucky Panera Bread where she ’ d worked part-time for the past two years .
Hoping to save for living expenses and a chunk of her upcoming college tuition , she estimates that she has applied for almost 20 other summer jobs , including multiple restaurants and a Dunkin ’ Donuts .
At least two , she says , told her that they couldn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ training an employee who wouldn ’ t be around for more than two months or beyond the fall , when a lot of young people head back to school .
Amelia usually works two or three days a week and weekends year-round .
“ Most of my friends have part-time or full-time jobs year-round rather than just in the summer , ” she says .
While she says “ it would be sweet to work at a cute local ice cream shop , or lifeguard at a pool , or do something fun @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in movies , ” the “ traditional ‘ summer job ’ is becoming more rare.
” She ’ s not wrong : The summer job as a rite of passage for teens and young adults has all but dissolved in recent years .
About two decades ago , half of teens in the United States spent their summers working , Pew data showed ; in 2018 , less than a third of teenagers held a job .
Much of the drop traces back to the Great Recession , which led to a dramatic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ work during summers , according to research from the Urban Institute .
A June 2020 report on the summer job outlook for teens in light of Covid-19 from Drexel University ’ s Center for Labor Markets and Policy suggests the pandemic has set back any gains since : Had the pandemic not happened , the report explains , seasonally adjusted teen employment rate was expected to be about 31 percent , the highest level since before the Great Recession .
Now , the teen summer employment rate is expected to be at a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the summer job remains so embedded in American consciousness that it is treated with a kind of nostalgia .
Jobs working in restaurants or behind cash registers , mowing lawns , or washing cars may not have been the stuff of dream-job glamour , but they represented a significant turning point for young people : Real life , and a sense of real responsibility .
It ’ s even nestled in our cultural lore : Ronald Reagan ’ s infamy as a lifeguard , Stranger Things ’ mall ice-cream scoopers , The Baby-Sitters @ @ @ @ @ @ @ work has long been held up as a way to discover a sense of accomplishment beyond grades and a sense of identity as independent young people maturing past childhood .
But today ’ s young people are more likely to be primary caretakers or breadwinners in their families , and for others , it ’ s a lack of jobs , not an inability to pull themselves off TikTok , that has contributed to the summer youth job decline .
Meanwhile , many of those jobs associated with teens on summer break have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ When Thomas C. Showalter , executive director of National Youth Employment Coalition , visits the fast food restaurant in his Oklahoma hometown where he worked as a teenager , he says , it ’ s more likely he ’ ll see older workers .
Many of them can ’ t afford to retire , creating an environment in which older , more experienced workers are competing with young people who need work experience , and in a lot of cases , income to support themselves and their families .
There are other factors @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Atlantic cited the rise of “ low-skill immigration ” in the last few decades as a key factor in the decline of youthful summer jobs .
There ’ s also the State Department ’ s Summer Work Travel Program , created in 1961 , which places young people from around the world in jobs across the nation taking tickets at amusement parks , scooping ice cream , and lifeguarding as a means to experience the ideals associated with American youth ( though the program has been criticized for alleged exploitation , abuse @ @ @ @ @ @ @ jobs were never easily accessible to all young people , anyway ; now , they ’ re even less so , and with it comes a loss at not only economic opportunity , but a chance to develop a sense of independence and identity outside of school .
The uncertainty of the summer job as we know it is yet another example of the continual shift toward economic precarity , and social upheaval , that ’ s become so familiar to today ’ s teens .
Young people , Showalter says , “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 9/11 and a time of war .
[ They know ] a time of school shootings , a time of slowly declining economic fortune .
And so the world seems much more precarious .
And it seems much less like there ’ s any kind of social contract there for you.
” Beyond the idea of a social contract , what we as a culture expect from teens has shifted , too .
Steven Mintz , a history professor at the University of Texas Austin , explains that the rise of the summer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of both compulsory schooling and the strengthening and eventual abolishment of child labor laws in the 1920s and ’ 30s , which came with increased high school enrollment and graduation rates .
As high school expanded during this period , Mintz says , teens worked in their spare time .
During summers , they served as substitutes for vacationing adults , working in factories , gas stations , doing sales and secretarial work , as well as working the seasonal , temporary jobs that we associate with young people , like being soda @ @ @ @ @ @ @ jobs like this drip with nostalgia and feel like they are from a bygone era .
Meredith Kyser , 18 , of Virginia , had hoped for a similar experience by signing up to work as a camp counselor this summer in New York , but it fell through as a result of Covid-19 restrictions on sleep-away camps .
“ I was heartbroken because I thought my summer would be like all of the classic summer camp movies , Wet Hot American Summer , Parent Trap , etc.
, ” she says .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ during summers purely to make money , and maybe save up for college , rather than to have fun with their friends .
She eventually found a job at Wendy ’ s after applying to at least 20 different jobs and receiving barely any replies .
She works nearly 35 hours a week , and plans to come back to this job on breaks from school , including a long winter break .
For more privileged young people , what was once a rite of passage is now considered lesser compared to flashy-but-often-unpaid @ @ @ @ @ @ @ want to end up in ; volunteering you can discuss in college interviews ; or time spent studying to lock down grades that offer another way up the social capital ladder .
Culturally , prioritization has shifted from gaining work experience to gaining the right kind of work experience for young people , and many are swift to weigh what ’ s a “ worthy ” job .
“ I was heartbroken because I thought my summer would be like all of the classic summer camp movies , Wet Hot American Summer , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , 21 , has held internships since starting college , and before that , took an accelerated program her last two years of high school to earn college credits while working part-time .
The summer after her first year of college , she took a two-day-a-week , unpaid internship with a magazine in her hometown , and toggled between a variety of summer jobs — waiting tables , babysitting gigs , yard work — at night and on her off-days .
While she loved her internships and had a good experience , she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a “ pretty slimy way ” for places to get free labor .
“ It ’ s such a hard bargain , ” she adds .
“ We want to break into our fields of choice , but the bottom line is that bills need to be paid first.
” Meanwhile , she feels she ’ s gained relevant experience working customer service .
“ It makes you better equipped to deal with people and the world around you than anything I can think of , and provides you with inexplicably valuable skills @ @ @ @ @ @ @ she says .
“ And yet , those summer jobs are still looked down on.
” Natalie Spievack , research assistant in the Income and Benefits Policy Center at the Urban Institute , pointed to competitive college admissions and increase in summer classes as part of the shift around summer jobs .
“ Working a summer job as a teenager used to be a hallmark of the American lifestyle , but this phenomenon is fading into the past , ” Spievack said .
Of course , in some ways , the nostalgic vision @ @ @ @ @ @ @ existed , and to the extent that it did , it was a white , middle-class American myth of possibility .
The idyllic image of young people holding jobs — think Paul Ryan using his summer job flipping burgers at McDonald ’ s as a talking point — is spun as part of the march toward the American dream .
But for many young people living in poverty , or teens in rural areas , the summer job might be as big a fantasy as a dream job .
For them , working @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it ’ s not just a fun thing to do , ” says Kisha Bird , director of youth policy at the Center for Law and Social Policy .
This bears out in the numbers .
Teens of color , especially those in low-income households , are less likely to hold a summer job than their white peers , and there are even further disparities , with female young adults earning less than their male peers , and Black and Latinx youth earning less than their white and Asian counterparts .
“ Working @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to be a hallmark of the American lifestyle , but this phenomenon is fading into the past ” For young Black people , Bird notes , the unemployment rate was already persistently high before Covid-19 .
“ So it didn ’ t jump as much because they were already out of the labor force , ” she adds .
For low-income young people living in high-poverty communities , first jobs — summer jobs — “ have not necessarily been in their communities for decades , ” Bird says .
“ The Covid crisis @ @ @ @ @ @ @ because they know it in their communities — but to lots of people that many , many folks weren ’ t doing well and young people , young workers were a big part of that , ” Bird says .
Even outside the economic and cultural shifts , there ’ s a personal side to the youth job crisis , too : The first job is a marker of adolescence and maturation , Showalter says — a means of finding identity .
These jobs created opportunities for another hallmark of young adulthood : @ @ @ @ @ @ @ different work situations and environments before deciding on a career path .
“ We ’ re not providing those opportunities to young people in the way that we once did , ” he says .
Then , young people get dinged for being behind .
It ’ s easy to play the “ when I was your age ” card on summer jobs without acknowledging that the level of encouragement and investment in the summer youth workforce has fundamentally shifted , to the detriment of young people .
If the foundation of that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ makes sense that how young people work would change with it .
Rainesford Stauffer is a writer , Kentuckian , and author of the forthcoming book An Ordinary Age , about the challenges of emerging adulthood in contemporary America .
She ’ s written for the New York Times Style and Opinion sections , WSJ .
Magazine , Teen Vogue , and the Atlantic , among others .
Every day at Vox , we aim to answer your most important questions and provide you , and our audience around the world , with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lives .
Our mission has never been more vital than it is in this moment : to empower you through understanding .
Vox ’ s work is reaching more people than ever , but our distinctive brand of explanatory journalism takes resources — particularly during a pandemic and an economic downturn .
Your financial contribution will not constitute a donation , but it will enable our staff to continue to offer free articles , videos , and podcasts at the quality and volume that this moment requires .
Please consider making a contribution @ @ @ @

Part of the July Issue of The Highlight, our home for ambitious stories that explain our world.
In June, because of Covid-19, Amelia Loeffler, 18, was laid off from a Kentucky Panera Bread where she’d worked part-time for the past two years. Hoping to save for living expenses and a chunk of her upcoming college tuition, she estimates that she has applied for almost 20 other summer jobs, including multiple restaurants and a Dunkin’ Donuts. At least two, she says, told her that they couldn’t afford to invest money in training an employee who wouldn’t be around for more than two months or beyond the fall, when a lot of young people head back to school.
Amelia usually works two or three days a week and weekends year-round. “Most of my friends have part-time or full-time jobs year-round rather than just in the summer,” she says. While she says “it would be sweet to work at a cute local ice cream shop, or lifeguard at a pool, or do something fun and summer-y like you see teenagers doing in movies,” the “traditional ‘summer job’ is becoming more rare.”
She’s not wrong: The summer job as a rite of passage for teens and young adults has all but dissolved in recent years. About two decades ago, half of teens in the United States spent their summers working, Pew data showed; in 2018, less than a third of teenagers held a job.
Much of the drop traces back to the Great Recession, which led to a dramatic decrease in the number of teens who work during summers, according to research from the Urban Institute. A June 2020 report on the summer job outlook for teens in light of Covid-19 from Drexel University’s Center for Labor Markets and Policy suggests the pandemic has set back any gains since: Had the pandemic not happened, the report explains, seasonally adjusted teen employment rate was expected to be about 31 percent, the highest level since before the Great Recession. Now, the teen summer employment rate is expected to be at a historic low: 23 percent.
Yet the summer job remains so embedded in American consciousness that it is treated with a kind of nostalgia. Jobs working in restaurants or behind cash registers, mowing lawns, or washing cars may not have been the stuff of dream-job glamour, but they represented a significant turning point for young people: Real life, and a sense of real responsibility.
It’s even nestled in our cultural lore: Ronald Reagan’s infamy as a lifeguard, Stranger Things’ mall ice-cream scoopers, The Baby-Sitters Club’s enduring popularity. Summer work has long been held up as a way to discover a sense of accomplishment beyond grades and a sense of identity as independent young people maturing past childhood.
But today’s young people are more likely to be primary caretakers or breadwinners in their families, and for others, it’s a lack of jobs, not an inability to pull themselves off TikTok, that has contributed to the summer youth job decline. Meanwhile, many of those jobs associated with teens on summer break have been filled by a different demographic: When Thomas C. Showalter, executive director of National Youth Employment Coalition, visits the fast food restaurant in his Oklahoma hometown where he worked as a teenager, he says, it’s more likely he’ll see older workers. Many of them can’t afford to retire, creating an environment in which older, more experienced workers are competing with young people who need work experience, and in a lot of cases, income to support themselves and their families.
There are other factors at play. A 2017 article in the Atlantic cited the rise of “low-skill immigration” in the last few decades as a key factor in the decline of youthful summer jobs. There’s also the State Department’s Summer Work Travel Program, created in 1961, which places young people from around the world in jobs across the nation taking tickets at amusement parks, scooping ice cream, and lifeguarding as a means to experience the ideals associated with American youth (though the program has been criticized for alleged exploitation, abuse, and discrimination).
But summer jobs were never easily accessible to all young people, anyway; now, they’re even less so, and with it comes a loss at not only economic opportunity, but a chance to develop a sense of independence and identity outside of school. The uncertainty of the summer job as we know it is yet another example of the continual shift toward economic precarity, and social upheaval, that’s become so familiar to today’s teens.
Young people, Showalter says, “don’t know a time before 9/11 and a time of war. [They know] a time of school shootings, a time of slowly declining economic fortune. And so the world seems much more precarious. And it seems much less like there’s any kind of social contract there for you.”
Beyond the idea of a social contract, what we as a culture expect from teens has shifted, too. Steven Mintz, a history professor at the University of Texas Austin, explains that the rise of the summer job was the result of an extension of both compulsory schooling and the strengthening and eventual abolishment of child labor laws in the 1920s and ’30s, which came with increased high school enrollment and graduation rates. As high school expanded during this period, Mintz says, teens worked in their spare time. During summers, they served as substitutes for vacationing adults, working in factories, gas stations, doing sales and secretarial work, as well as working the seasonal, temporary jobs that we associate with young people, like being soda jerks or lifeguarding.
These days, jobs like this drip with nostalgia and feel like they are from a bygone era. Meredith Kyser, 18, of Virginia, had hoped for a similar experience by signing up to work as a camp counselor this summer in New York, but it fell through as a result of Covid-19 restrictions on sleep-away camps. “I was heartbroken because I thought my summer would be like all of the classic summer camp movies, Wet Hot American Summer, Parent Trap, etc.,” she says.
She thinks many in her generation work during summers purely to make money, and maybe save up for college, rather than to have fun with their friends. She eventually found a job at Wendy’s after applying to at least 20 different jobs and receiving barely any replies. She works nearly 35 hours a week, and plans to come back to this job on breaks from school, including a long winter break.
For more privileged young people, what was once a rite of passage is now considered lesser compared to flashy-but-often-unpaid internships tailored to the field you ultimately want to end up in; volunteering you can discuss in college interviews; or time spent studying to lock down grades that offer another way up the social capital ladder. Culturally, prioritization has shifted from gaining work experience to gaining the right kind of work experience for young people, and many are swift to weigh what’s a “worthy” job.
“I was heartbroken because I thought my summer would be like all of the classic summer camp movies, Wet Hot American Summer, Parent Trap, etc.”
Allison Rapp, 21, has held internships since starting college, and before that, took an accelerated program her last two years of high school to earn college credits while working part-time. The summer after her first year of college, she took a two-day-a-week, unpaid internship with a magazine in her hometown, and toggled between a variety of summer jobs — waiting tables, babysitting gigs, yard work — at night and on her off-days.
While she loved her internships and had a good experience, she’s vocal that unpaid internships are a “pretty slimy way” for places to get free labor. “It’s such a hard bargain,” she adds. “We want to break into our fields of choice, but the bottom line is that bills need to be paid first.” Meanwhile, she feels she’s gained relevant experience working customer service. “It makes you better equipped to deal with people and the world around you than anything I can think of, and provides you with inexplicably valuable skills that employers love to see,” she says. “And yet, those summer jobs are still looked down on.”
Natalie Spievack, research assistant in the Income and Benefits Policy Center at the Urban Institute, pointed to competitive college admissions and increase in summer classes as part of the shift around summer jobs. “Working a summer job as a teenager used to be a hallmark of the American lifestyle, but this phenomenon is fading into the past,” Spievack said.
Of course, in some ways, the nostalgic vision of the summer job has never really existed, and to the extent that it did, it was a white, middle-class American myth of possibility. The idyllic image of young people holding jobs — think Paul Ryan using his summer job flipping burgers at McDonald’s as a talking point — is spun as part of the march toward the American dream.
But for many young people living in poverty, or teens in rural areas, the summer job might be as big a fantasy as a dream job. For them, working is “not necessarily a choice; it’s not just a fun thing to do,” says Kisha Bird, director of youth policy at the Center for Law and Social Policy.
This bears out in the numbers. Teens of color, especially those in low-income households, are less likely to hold a summer job than their white peers, and there are even further disparities, with female young adults earning less than their male peers, and Black and Latinx youth earning less than their white and Asian counterparts.
“Working a summer job as a teenager used to be a hallmark of the American lifestyle, but this phenomenon is fading into the past”
For young Black people, Bird notes, the unemployment rate was already persistently high before Covid-19. “So it didn’t jump as much because they were already out of the labor force,” she adds. For low-income young people living in high-poverty communities, first jobs — summer jobs — “have not necessarily been in their communities for decades,” Bird says.
“The Covid crisis has revealed — not to young people because they know it in their communities — but to lots of people that many, many folks weren’t doing well and young people, young workers were a big part of that,” Bird says.
Even outside the economic and cultural shifts, there’s a personal side to the youth job crisis, too: The first job is a marker of adolescence and maturation, Showalter says — a means of finding identity. These jobs created opportunities for another hallmark of young adulthood: exploration, or experiencing a variety of different work situations and environments before deciding on a career path. “We’re not providing those opportunities to young people in the way that we once did,” he says. Then, young people get dinged for being behind.
It’s easy to play the “when I was your age” card on summer jobs without acknowledging that the level of encouragement and investment in the summer youth workforce has fundamentally shifted, to the detriment of young people. If the foundation of that work is changing, then it only makes sense that how young people work would change with it.
Rainesford Stauffer is a writer, Kentuckian, and author of the forthcoming book An Ordinary Age, about the challenges of emerging adulthood in contemporary America. She’s written for the New York Times Style and Opinion sections, WSJ. Magazine, Teen Vogue, and the Atlantic, among others.


vox--2020-07-22--Meet the 2020 grads entering the bleakest economy in decades

Part of the July Issue of The Highlight , our home for ambitious stories that explain our world .
Many kids growing up in the shadow of the Great Recession have probably worried that they might graduate into a battered economy just like it .
Last August , while I was entering my senior year of college , a piece of financial news sent me into a small panic about whether my own graduation would dovetail with a recession .
An economic crisis happened , sure enough , but it ’ s one far more catastrophic than anyone could have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ their jobs canceled or postponed indefinitely in the Covid-19 pandemic , and others found that the industries they ’ d trained for have more or less stopped hiring .
Still others can ’ t get professional licenses to work in their chosen fields .
Near the peak of the job losses in March , 31 percent of people ages 18 to 34 in an Axios-Harris survey said they were temporarily or permanently out of work .
“ All my peers I ’ ve talked to feel that something was taken from us , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who just graduated from Portland State University .
You can hear echoes of that sentiment in how 2009 graduates talked about their fortunes during the Great Recession , which stripped many of their moment of triumph and left them facing a post-grad economy that will impact their health and wages for decades .
The class of 2020 is not the class of 2009 .
And this pandemic has not been like the Great Recession : A Pew report found that , after three months of Covid-19 , the unemployment rate jumped more than @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the Great Recession .
Graduating into this level of economic turmoil will continue to haunt the older members of Gen Z .
“ Early career events like this tend to have scarring effects , they tend to persist over time , ” William Gale , a senior fellow at the Brookings Institution , told the Guardian .
“ The jobs available or the wages available won ’ t be as good as they would have been otherwise.
” Vox talked to five recent graduates of the class of 2020 to learn how @ @ @ @ @ @ @ they think graduating into a teetering economy will impact them in the long term .
Their situations are different : One has a job , another is applying to grad school , some are stuck in career limbo .
But most felt cheated out of their chance to celebrate the transition into full adulthood — and several have profound anxiety about the future .
“ I ’ m extremely worried about my plan not working out .
I think about it every day , maybe even every hour .
… It ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ there ’ s absolutely no security for me or for anyone , ” said Matthew San Martin , who just graduated from St. Edward ’ s University in Austin , Texas .
“ There ’ s no guarantee.
” These interviews have been edited for length and clarity .
Right now : Waiting for a license All through middle school and high school I was into musical theater .
I ended up going to community college , which is Foothill College here in Los Altos .
And while I was there , I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was about prosthetics , makeup , and wigs .
I was really down one day , and one of my teachers said to me , “ I see you have an eye for creating characters just with makeup .
I can see a story behind this face that you made.
” I was like , I need a drive in my life .
I need to figure out what I want in a career .
My dream became to work as a makeup designer in theater .
[ My teacher ] said , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and get your license , and that ’ ll open up so many more doors for you.
” I was thinking of cutting hair as something to fall back on .
That was my last semester of college , and I enrolled straight into cosmetology school .
My program took exactly two years .
Since everything is shut down right now , I can ’ t get my cosmetology license because I can ’ t physically go test .
In my whole graduating class , only half of us have our licenses .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ limbo right now , because we can ’ t work .
I ’ m supposed to move to New York City in August to further my education .
I ’ m planning to go to the Make-up Designory [ a trade school teaching makeup design ] .
I don ’ t even know if that ’ s going to happen .
It really scares me because my line of work is directly based on person-to-person contact .
I can ’ t do my job without touching someone ’ s hair , without touching @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a packed room with an audience .
It makes me think the theater industry is just never going to be the same .
Money-wise , I ’ m pretty lucky to have my parents supporting me through school , and I ’ m really lucky to have them financially supporting me still .
I currently live at home with them .
But definitely once I ’ m out of school , I ’ m worried about finding a place in the economy .
That has always been a big source of my anxiety @ @ @ @ @ @ @ times worse .
Even if Broadway reopens and shows start up again , no one ’ s going to want to hire a newbie .
They ’ ll probably go back to their tried-and-true people who are established in the industry anyway .
I can ’ t see things going back to “ normal ” for probably the next five , 10 years .
By then , it ’ ll be past my time where I should have been starting out and building my career , just as any other person in their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t regret what I studied .
I don ’ t see myself being content with anything else in my life .
I had a big realization that ’ s like , if I ’ m not going to be happy in what I ’ m doing , what ’ s the point ?
I ’ m trying to manifest my best life .
My thought to take a gap year happened during my sophomore year .
Being in high school really stressed me .
For the last 14 or so years , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ school .
And I want to be a mental health counselor , and in order to do that , I ’ m giving up seven to 10 more years of my life to school .
I still want to take my gap year .
My plans to travel got canceled , but I want to get a small job , something in retail or customer service , and get a little money out .
Me and my cousin have a plan of moving and getting a place together .
I like to do @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
[ We ] said we ’ ll put our heads together and start this business up .
I ’ m not so worried about the future of mental health counselors being impacted by the pandemic .
Quarantine will have a long-lasting effect , so people will seek out help .
With Gen Z , a good percentage of us are more aware and able to be more vulnerable .
So I believe there will definitely be a need .
But I worry a lot about my motivation .
I can ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ before or put something off .
But right now , when I ’ m working on something , I ’ m like , “ Why does this even matter ?
” I wonder , “ Is this going to help me in the long run ?
” because we ’ re in a pandemic .
Is my hard work going to count ?
My senior year , I didn ’ t think I was going to graduate .
Depression hit everybody hard , but especially me .
There were times where I wouldn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lesson and my teachers would be emailing my mom .
And I ’ m like , “ No , no , I ’ ll get it done.
” Then a week goes by , still not done .
Two weeks go by , still not done .
I was just laying in bed , sleeping until 4 o ’ clock in the afternoon .
Mental health issues are definitely real [ in the ] pandemic .
There are a couple people from my class of 2020 that I have lost to suicide before @ @ @ @ @ @ @ chance for those who need help to recognize that they need it and seek it .
Right now : Applying for jobs I ended up going to school for five years instead of the normal four .
I started out in finance and had a change of heart , and I realized I had a lot more passion for marketing .
Finance is a lot more working behind the numbers , not really working with people and customers .
Looking back at it , I wish I had graduated a year earlier and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ currently living with my parents ; I moved back home mid-May after I graduated .
I ’ m applying to about five to 10 jobs a week .
There ’ s definitely a lot less entry-level jobs that I noticed compared to pre-pandemic .
It feels like I ’ m having to compete against people that have more experience or that have been in the job market a lot longer that recently lost their jobs .
I ’ ve broadened to look at industries such as fundraising and nonprofits .
I ’ m @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I ’ ve worked a lot in esports in general .
My biggest fear is having to settle for a job that doesn ’ t use a lot of the skills I have now and won ’ t help me in the future .
There ’ s a lot more opportunity in other cities and states when it comes to marketing specifically , so settling for a job in Baton Rouge feels very limiting .
I ’ ve been trying to look at the positives .
Employers aren ’ t going to look @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hard anymore because of what ’ s going on .
[ In my free time now ] I ’ m also trying to increase my current skills .
I ’ m trying to learn how to code through online programs .
I would say right now I ’ m emotionally in a good spot .
Of course , there are times when the process of finding a job and applying to jobs can be stressful and frustrating .
I know that in the long run , though , it will pay off , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ get where I ’ m going .
This pandemic has definitely taught me how to be more patient .
A lot of my friends that before didn ’ t plan on getting extra education , like a master ’ s or a doctorate , are considering that now .
Some are actually doing it .
My parents have even asked me if I want to do it .
Honestly , I ’ m keeping it in the very , very back as an option .
Right now : Working as an AmeriCorps college @ @ @ @ @ @ @ scared because it ’ s the worst job market to graduate into .
There used to be a protection of , “ Oh , you ’ re a student , don ’ t worry about those big world problems , your priority is being a student.
” Now that protection is gone .
We are all the normal , functioning humans in society that we ’ re supposed to be , but there ’ s no jobs for us .
It ’ s terrifying to think that you did all this work for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was for nothing .
I fell in love with creative writing when I was really young .
My mom ’ s a writer too .
I think she basically raised me in a Barnes & Noble .
I put myself through college , I would say , 90 percent on my own .
I came from a relatively poor family , and my mom didn ’ t finish college .
My grandma immigrated from Taiwan .
She ’ s had three children and a bunch of grandchildren , and I was the first @ @ @ @ @ @ @ college .
For me , it was really important .
[ Now that I ’ ve graduated ] I have a position with AmeriCorps starting in August .
It doesn ’ t pay a lot , but that ’ s my security for now .
It offers an opportunity of putting my loans on hold .
While at AmeriCorps , I want to be simultaneously writing a novel or a memoir that I could send to literary agents in the hopes of getting it published .
Yes , the economy sucks .
I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ into the worst job market America has ever seen .
But I am a poet .
I am a creator .
I will never stop creating as long as I have breath in my body .
All I can do is bide my time .
I want to be a director , producer , actress , and a screenwriter .
I want to be a Broadway star .
I want to write books until I ’ m old and senile .
I know the pandemic and the immediate crisis will someday pass .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ writing , and a lot of that I can do from the comfort of my home .
Right now : Applying to grad school I was the editor-in-chief of the student-run newspaper , called Hilltop Views , and I was president of the student-run digital media organization .
I also worked as an IT guy .
[ In my journalism ] I focused on marginalized groups of people both on my campus and in the greater Austin , Texas , community .
At first I thought that I would try to find work @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the matter is that a lot of the publications that I was interested in working for are going out of business .
I can ’ t stress enough how [ all the ] plans I had to make money and start my career were thwarted by the pandemic .
Literally every single plan I had to start my own publication was thrown away .
Right now , I ’ m applying to grad school to study how media plays a factor in communication and society .
[ It ’ s ] for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ even further .
Hopefully with an extra degree I have a better chance of getting my foot in the door with a job interview .
I ’ m extremely worried about my plan not working out .
I think about it every day , maybe even every hour .
I think , “ Shit , man , what are you doing ?
This could backfire in the worst way for you.
” But I figure it ’ s a toss-up between going to school online and trying to find work in my field @ @ @ @ @ @ @ m learning , or just start the rest of my life already .
There ’ s a part of me that can make the argument that yes , this is my only option .
Because frankly , there is nothing that says that when this pandemic is over , for real , and everyone is able to safely go back to work , that a bachelor ’ s degree will be worth anything if there ’ s millions of 2020 graduates all competing for the same jobs .
As recent college graduates , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ past behind us and keep moving forward .
There wasn ’ t really a time to be sad or dwell over anything .
You just had to finish your degree and start making money to pay off loan debt .
I don ’ t think myself or my friends ever processed what was happening until we were already weeks into our first stay-at-home order .
One other thing I ’ m worried about is the future of job interviews .
The job interview rulebook has always been different for people of color , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ big issue affecting everyone that the playing field would be leveled .
But I ’ m worried that instead of employers taking notice of the usual stuff , they ’ re going to be taking notice of , “ Do you have a stable internet connection ?
Do you have your own office or workspace ?
Are you able to work odd hours ?
” It ’ s never been more clear to me that there ’ s absolutely no security for me or for anyone .
There ’ s no guarantee , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it won ’ t be gone the next month .
I don ’ t anticipate the spread of the virus getting any better anytime soon .
I don ’ t anticipate the job market clearing up anytime soon .
I anticipate the repercussions of this to follow me for many , many years .
Michael Waters is a writer covering politics and economics .
His work has appeared in the Atlantic , Gizmodo , BuzzFeed , and the Outline .
Every day at Vox , we aim to answer your most important questions @ @ @ @ @ @ @ around the world , with information that has the power to save lives .
Our mission has never been more vital than it is in this moment : to empower you through understanding .
Vox ’ s work is reaching more people than ever , but our distinctive brand of explanatory journalism takes resources — particularly during a pandemic and an economic downturn .
Your financial contribution will not constitute a donation , but it will enable our staff to continue to offer free articles , videos , and podcasts at the quality @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Please consider making a contribution to Vox today .

Part of the July Issue of The Highlight, our home for ambitious stories that explain our world.
Many kids growing up in the shadow of the Great Recession have probably worried that they might graduate into a battered economy just like it. Last August, while I was entering my senior year of college, a piece of financial news sent me into a small panic about whether my own graduation would dovetail with a recession.
An economic crisis happened, sure enough, but it’s one far more catastrophic than anyone could have imagined. Plenty of graduates have had their jobs canceled or postponed indefinitely in the Covid-19 pandemic, and others found that the industries they’d trained for have more or less stopped hiring. Still others can’t get professional licenses to work in their chosen fields. Near the peak of the job losses in March, 31 percent of people ages 18 to 34 in an Axios-Harris survey said they were temporarily or permanently out of work.
“All my peers I’ve talked to feel that something was taken from us,” said Moxxy Rogers, a 22-year-old who just graduated from Portland State University.
You can hear echoes of that sentiment in how 2009 graduates talked about their fortunes during the Great Recession, which stripped many of their moment of triumph and left them facing a post-grad economy that will impact their health and wages for decades.
The class of 2020 is not the class of 2009. And this pandemic has not been like the Great Recession: A Pew report found that, after three months of Covid-19, the unemployment rate jumped more than it did during the two worst years of the Great Recession. Graduating into this level of economic turmoil will continue to haunt the older members of Gen Z.
“Early career events like this tend to have scarring effects, they tend to persist over time,” William Gale, a senior fellow at the Brookings Institution, told the Guardian. “The jobs available or the wages available won’t be as good as they would have been otherwise.”
Vox talked to five recent graduates of the class of 2020 to learn how they’re coping — and how they think graduating into a teetering economy will impact them in the long term. Their situations are different: One has a job, another is applying to grad school, some are stuck in career limbo. But most felt cheated out of their chance to celebrate the transition into full adulthood — and several have profound anxiety about the future.
“I’m extremely worried about my plan not working out. I think about it every day, maybe even every hour. … It’s never been more clear to me that there’s absolutely no security for me or for anyone,” said Matthew San Martin, who just graduated from St. Edward’s University in Austin, Texas. “There’s no guarantee.”
These interviews have been edited for length and clarity.
Elena Panos, 21, living in Gilroy, California
Cosmetology certificate, Gavilan College
Right now: Waiting for a license
All through middle school and high school I was into musical theater. I ended up going to community college, which is Foothill College here in Los Altos. And while I was there, I was taking a makeup class. It was about prosthetics, makeup, and wigs.
I was really down one day, and one of my teachers said to me, “I see you have an eye for creating characters just with makeup. I can see a story behind this face that you made.” I was like, I need a drive in my life. I need to figure out what I want in a career. My dream became to work as a makeup designer in theater.
[My teacher] said, “You can go to cosmetology school and get your license, and that’ll open up so many more doors for you.” I was thinking of cutting hair as something to fall back on.
That was my last semester of college, and I enrolled straight into cosmetology school. My program took exactly two years.
Since everything is shut down right now, I can’t get my cosmetology license because I can’t physically go test. In my whole graduating class, only half of us have our licenses. We’re all just sitting in limbo right now, because we can’t work.
I’m supposed to move to New York City in August to further my education. I’m planning to go to the Make-up Designory [a trade school teaching makeup design]. I don’t even know if that’s going to happen.
It really scares me because my line of work is directly based on person-to-person contact. I can’t do my job without touching someone’s hair, without touching someone’s face, without having a packed room with an audience. It makes me think the theater industry is just never going to be the same.
Money-wise, I’m pretty lucky to have my parents supporting me through school, and I’m really lucky to have them financially supporting me still. I currently live at home with them. But definitely once I’m out of school, I’m worried about finding a place in the economy. That has always been a big source of my anxiety, but now it’s 10 times worse.
Even if Broadway reopens and shows start up again, no one’s going to want to hire a newbie. They’ll probably go back to their tried-and-true people who are established in the industry anyway.
I can’t see things going back to “normal” for probably the next five, 10 years. By then, it’ll be past my time where I should have been starting out and building my career, just as any other person in their early 20s does.
But I don’t regret what I studied. I don’t see myself being content with anything else in my life. I had a big realization that’s like, if I’m not going to be happy in what I’m doing, what’s the point? I’m trying to manifest my best life.
Brianna McGee, 17, living in Fresno, California
Graduated from Mountain House High School
Right now: Taking a gap year
My thought to take a gap year happened during my sophomore year. Being in high school really stressed me. For the last 14 or so years, most of my days were consumed with school. And I want to be a mental health counselor, and in order to do that, I’m giving up seven to 10 more years of my life to school.
I still want to take my gap year. My plans to travel got canceled, but I want to get a small job, something in retail or customer service, and get a little money out. Me and my cousin have a plan of moving and getting a place together. I like to do makeup, lip gloss, and lashes. [We] said we’ll put our heads together and start this business up.
I’m not so worried about the future of mental health counselors being impacted by the pandemic. Quarantine will have a long-lasting effect, so people will seek out help. With Gen Z, a good percentage of us are more aware and able to be more vulnerable. So I believe there will definitely be a need.
But I worry a lot about my motivation. I can’t say that I’ve never procrastinated before or put something off. But right now, when I’m working on something, I’m like, “Why does this even matter?” I wonder, “Is this going to help me in the long run?” because we’re in a pandemic. Is my hard work going to count?
My senior year, I didn’t think I was going to graduate. Depression hit everybody hard, but especially me. There were times where I wouldn’t even go to the Zoom lesson and my teachers would be emailing my mom. And I’m like, “No, no, I’ll get it done.” Then a week goes by, still not done. Two weeks go by, still not done. I was just laying in bed, sleeping until 4 o’clock in the afternoon.
Mental health issues are definitely real [in the] pandemic. There are a couple people from my class of 2020 that I have lost to suicide before graduation.
Hopefully, this is a chance for those who need help to recognize that they need it and seek it.
Jordan Kozar, 22, living in Baton Rouge, Louisiana
Bachelor’s in marketing, Louisiana State University
Right now: Applying for jobs
I ended up going to school for five years instead of the normal four. I started out in finance and had a change of heart, and I realized I had a lot more passion for marketing. Finance is a lot more working behind the numbers, not really working with people and customers.
Looking back at it, I wish I had graduated a year earlier and stuck with finance.
I’m currently living with my parents; I moved back home mid-May after I graduated. I’m applying to about five to 10 jobs a week.
There’s definitely a lot less entry-level jobs that I noticed compared to pre-pandemic. It feels like I’m having to compete against people that have more experience or that have been in the job market a lot longer that recently lost their jobs. I’ve broadened to look at industries such as fundraising and nonprofits. I’m also looking at the esports community because I’ve worked a lot in esports in general.
My biggest fear is having to settle for a job that doesn’t use a lot of the skills I have now and won’t help me in the future. There’s a lot more opportunity in other cities and states when it comes to marketing specifically, so settling for a job in Baton Rouge feels very limiting.
I’ve been trying to look at the positives. Employers aren’t going to look at a gap on a resume as hard anymore because of what’s going on. [In my free time now] I’m also trying to increase my current skills. I’m trying to learn how to code through online programs.
I would say right now I’m emotionally in a good spot. Of course, there are times when the process of finding a job and applying to jobs can be stressful and frustrating. I know that in the long run, though, it will pay off, and I have to be confident to get where I’m going. This pandemic has definitely taught me how to be more patient.
A lot of my friends that before didn’t plan on getting extra education, like a master’s or a doctorate, are considering that now. Some are actually doing it. My parents have even asked me if I want to do it.
Honestly, I’m keeping it in the very, very back as an option.
Moxxy Rogers, 22, living in Portland, Oregon
Bachelor’s in creative writing with a poetry focus, Portland State University
Right now: Working as an AmeriCorps college application coach
Many of us are feeling scared because it’s the worst job market to graduate into. There used to be a protection of, “Oh, you’re a student, don’t worry about those big world problems, your priority is being a student.” Now that protection is gone. We are all the normal, functioning humans in society that we’re supposed to be, but there’s no jobs for us. It’s terrifying to think that you did all this work for all these years, and maybe it was for nothing.
I fell in love with creative writing when I was really young. My mom’s a writer too. I think she basically raised me in a Barnes & Noble. I put myself through college, I would say, 90 percent on my own. I came from a relatively poor family, and my mom didn’t finish college. My grandma immigrated from Taiwan. She’s had three children and a bunch of grandchildren, and I was the first girl in my family to graduate from college. For me, it was really important.
[Now that I’ve graduated] I have a position with AmeriCorps starting in August. It doesn’t pay a lot, but that’s my security for now. It offers an opportunity of putting my loans on hold. While at AmeriCorps, I want to be simultaneously writing a novel or a memoir that I could send to literary agents in the hopes of getting it published.
Yes, the economy sucks. I put myself through school only to graduate into the worst job market America has ever seen. But I am a poet. I am a creator. I will never stop creating as long as I have breath in my body. All I can do is bide my time.
I want to be a director, producer, actress, and a screenwriter. I want to be a Broadway star. I want to write books until I’m old and senile. I know the pandemic and the immediate crisis will someday pass. I’m lucky that I have writing, and a lot of that I can do from the comfort of my home.
Matthew San Martin, 22, living in San Antonio, Texas
Bachelor’s in communications, St. Edward’s University
Right now: Applying to grad school
I was the editor-in-chief of the student-run newspaper, called Hilltop Views, and I was president of the student-run digital media organization. I also worked as an IT guy.
[In my journalism] I focused on marginalized groups of people both on my campus and in the greater Austin, Texas, community.
At first I thought that I would try to find work in my hometown. But the fact of the matter is that a lot of the publications that I was interested in working for are going out of business.
I can’t stress enough how [all the] plans I had to make money and start my career were thwarted by the pandemic. Literally every single plan I had to start my own publication was thrown away.
Right now, I’m applying to grad school to study how media plays a factor in communication and society. [It’s] for the hope of deferring my student loans even further. Hopefully with an extra degree I have a better chance of getting my foot in the door with a job interview.
I’m extremely worried about my plan not working out. I think about it every day, maybe even every hour.
I think, “Shit, man, what are you doing? This could backfire in the worst way for you.” But I figure it’s a toss-up between going to school online and trying to find work in my field to hopefully gain experience while I’m learning, or just start the rest of my life already.
There’s a part of me that can make the argument that yes, this is my only option. Because frankly, there is nothing that says that when this pandemic is over, for real, and everyone is able to safely go back to work, that a bachelor’s degree will be worth anything if there’s millions of 2020 graduates all competing for the same jobs.
As recent college graduates, we’re forced to put the past behind us and keep moving forward. There wasn’t really a time to be sad or dwell over anything. You just had to finish your degree and start making money to pay off loan debt. I don’t think myself or my friends ever processed what was happening until we were already weeks into our first stay-at-home order.
One other thing I’m worried about is the future of job interviews. The job interview rulebook has always been different for people of color, and you would think with such a big issue affecting everyone that the playing field would be leveled. But I’m worried that instead of employers taking notice of the usual stuff, they’re going to be taking notice of, “Do you have a stable internet connection? Do you have your own office or workspace? Are you able to work odd hours?”
It’s never been more clear to me that there’s absolutely no security for me or for anyone. There’s no guarantee, if I do find work, that it won’t be gone the next month.
I don’t anticipate the spread of the virus getting any better anytime soon. I don’t anticipate the job market clearing up anytime soon. I anticipate the repercussions of this to follow me for many, many years.
Michael Waters is a writer covering politics and economics. His work has appeared in the Atlantic, Gizmodo, BuzzFeed, and the Outline.


vox--2020-07-22--Why you can’t help screwing around while working from home

Part of the July Issue of The Highlight , our home for ambitious stories that explain our world .
Since Matthew Burrows entered self-quarantine in March , he ’ s had to learn how to accommodate a new co-worker : Dipper , a chatty oatmeal- and eggshell-feathered finch with a beak the color of a traffic cone .
“ I usually take my Zoom calls from my kitchen table over yonder , just so the background noise is a little muted , ” Burrows says as Dipper trills in his cage .
Normally , finches would live in a lively @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
It ’ s the avian equivalent of an open office — an environment that also suited Burrows , an account manager at the technology PR firm the Hoffman Agency , until , faced with the pandemic , the company closed its San Jose , California , headquarters and sent employees home .
Since Burrows and his partner rescued Dipper in the first month of quarantine , the friendly finch has demanded a significant amount of attention — more than the couple could ever give him in a normal workday .
To keep @ @ @ @ @ @ @ works , Burrows DJs a nonstop mix of nerdy podcasts ( Burrows is a fan of the McElroy Family ’ s extended universe ) and random playlists ( Dipper has “ shown an appreciation for jazz ” ) .
If the sounds stop for too long or he selects something Dipper doesn ’ t like , the bird squawks — an angry staccato Burrows , now fluent in finch , ably mimics .
“ Ironically , we ’ ve been talking about what we ’ re going to do for [ Dipper ] @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” he says .
But working from home , and regularly diverting our attentions to pets , video games , kids and Tiger King , may just be the new normal .
Before the pandemic , roughly 14 percent of Americans worked remotely five or more days a week , according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics .
But since social distancing began , roughly half of workers are logging in from their scattered homes , apartments , and vacation rentals , according to research from Erik Brynjolfsson , a professor of management @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who snagged an ergonomic office chair or upgraded their wifi have , like Burrows , found distractions around every corner .
Dipper isn ’ t even Burrows ’ s only diversion .
“ There are some days I need a break , and the video game console is right there , ” he says .
But however demanding he is , Dipper gives something back : “ He ’ s really the alarm , ” Burrows says , providing some structure to an otherwise amorphous remote workweek .
With limited coping mechanisms at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are increasingly in search of a respite from the inexorable grind of working through a pandemic .
Shut indoors and starved of sports , the masses have turned to video games : Thanks to a run on consoles and pandemic-related production difficulties , the Nintendo Switch is effectively sold out .
And Twitch , a platform that allows users to watch each others ’ gameplay , saw traffic rise 20 percent between January and March .
People are making time for streaming TV and movies , too .
In the first quarter of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ — and longtime users ’ habits are changing .
As they searched for “ comfort ” TV to fill the silence , daytime streaming rose 4 percent in March and April , according to streaming guide Reelgood .
Many are finding it impossible to simply stay focused through this year ’ s upheavals .
When schools closed , parents were expected to become teachers without missing team meetings .
“ I feel like I have five jobs : mom , teacher , C.C.O.
, house cleaner , chef , ” one woman told @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , both personal and professional , have quickly crowded people ’ s schedules , further cutting short working hours .
Hungry for new information about the virus and the recent wave of protests , social media use exploded as people lost whole days to “ doomscrolling ” : mindlessly refreshing feeds in search of new information about the pandemic or politics .
Other frantic activities , such as day trading , have also reached a fever pitch .
The troubling results are reflected in users ’ screen time reports , which track exactly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ devices .
As work and life bled together like a tie-dye sweatsuit , the US workday for many companies grew by three hours since March , according to NordVPN , a network service provider .
“ If I ’ m trying to schedule a call , in the past it could have been that between 9 am and 5 pm , most of us would be available , ” says Ben Waber , the president and co-founder of organizational analytics firm Humanyze .
“ Today , that ’ s not the case .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ working from 7 am to 7 pm and available some of those hours.
” Now , meetings and rare moments of deep work are punctuated by online shopping , soothing puzzles , and training new pets .
The pandemic seems poised to bring about a long-awaited revolution in work culture .
Everyone from rank-and-file employees to tech leaders like Mark Zuckerberg are calling for flexible work to continue after social isolation policies end .
But the path forward is riddled with wiki rabbit holes , Super Mario Brothers , and timed naps .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ the traditional office , they ’ re now essential components of the new remote work lifestyle .
Burrows , for one , isn ’ t complaining .
“ It ’ s nice to be able to move just two feet to my right , and there I am , ready for my lunch break.
” NASA communications scientist Jack Nilles coined the term “ telecommuting ” in the early 1970s .
By the 1980s , his vision was becoming a reality as companies such as IBM installed “ remote terminals ” in employees @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , from the laptop to the video call to the smartphone , made work more accessible .
By 2013 , roughly 23 percent of Americans worked from home at least part of the week .
But that year , Yahoo CEO Marissa Mayer called her employees back to the office .
“ Speed and quality are often sacrificed when we work from home , ” she wrote in a widely circulated memo .
When IBM — the original telework pioneer — followed suit in 2017 , some wondered if work from home was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ shirking from home , ” decades of research have shown that flexible work policies offer numerous benefits , says Nicholas Bloom , a professor of economics at Stanford University .
Companies save on real estate and everyone cuts down on commute time .
Workers are more productive , and they ’ re also more satisfied with their jobs .
In the pandemic , those same practices that companies such as Yahoo and IBM recently eschewed are the only thing keeping them afloat .
“ The one overriding piece of feedback is that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ anyone expected , ” Bloom says .
“ We ’ re hearing that firms get the perception people are working harder.
” But for employees , it can feel like treading water .
Without her colleagues around , Mariana Pelaez , a graphic designer for the Minneapolis nightclub First Avenue and 7th St Entry , says she ’ s experienced fewer external interruptions .
But her attention wanders more easily .
Instead of staying focused on design programs or Slack , Pelaez finds herself gravitating to Animal Crossing : New Horizons — which @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the bestselling games ever made for the Nintendo Switch — and conversations with her boyfriend , who now works right behind her .
“ I don ’ t know if it ’ s that I ’ m getting more distracted or taking longer because I ’ m at home , but I ’ m definitely taking longer to get things done , ” she says .
Kenedie , an office worker and avid Twitch streamer in Ontario , Canada , has experienced similar struggles in social isolation — ones she ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ about , so she asked that Vox not use her full name .
“ I would go through this cycle of trying to work and still getting distracted , and then feeling guilty , ” she says .
“ That ’ s still a challenge .
Even though I ’ m still getting my workload done , I feel less productive.
” While she is strict about not gaming during the workday , her second monitor is usually running Netflix or other people ’ s Twitch streams , and she gazes over from @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The meandering minds of remote workers around the world probably has less to do with working from home than the context in which we ’ re doing it — a once-in-a-century mass casualty event — says Larry Rosen , a professor emeritus of psychology at California State University Dominguez Hills and an expert in the science of distraction .
Our current predicament reminds Rosen of an influential 2010 study on multitasking : Researchers divided students into three groups and asked them to read a passage .
One group had no distractions , one @ @ @ @ @ @ @ started reading , and a third group received instant messages as they read .
When tested on the material , each group fared equally well , but the third group took the longest to complete the task .
“ We are the third group right now , ” Rosen says .
“ It is taking us longer to do everything .
It is adding more stress.
” While we eventually get everything done , it doesn ’ t feel like much of an accomplishment .
Even Rosen , a longtime remote worker , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ stay on task .
“ I ’ m still in pajamas and robe at noon , ” he says .
And despite his best efforts to stay focused on his treadmill desk , tasks seem to slip through the cracks .
“ I find myself circling back at night to finish things.
” The pandemic isn ’ t the only challenge the country faces , either .
We ’ re also in a period of profound social unrest and hurtling toward a presidential election .
For Pelaez and her colleagues in Minneapolis , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the subsequent protests disrupted every aspect of their work and life .
“ That week , I don ’ t think anyone got anything done , ” she says .
“ I think that just shows , even when we are stuck at home , everything that ’ s happening in the city is still going to affect us.
” These struggles are only exacerbated by our unprecedented isolation .
“ When you get a note from someone that says they ’ re following you on Instagram , when you crave connection , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ says .
In an office , people usually spend part of the day chatting with colleagues .
At the very least , they feel the presence of others around them .
Now , “ the only way to make up for it is to electronically talk to people , so you self-interrupt all the time , ” Rosen says .
“ We think it ’ s making us happier , but we ’ re more stressed , and we ’ re struggling with work.
” The potent mix of professional productivity and personal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I think people are burning out , to be honest with you , ” says Tim Pychyl , an associate professor of psychology at Carleton University in Canada and a leading researcher on procrastination .
Pychyl says workers need clear boundaries to stay balanced .
The 5 pm mass exodus from the office was a useful signal , but now everyone must rely on their own internal clocks .
“ We all have to have that ability to say , ‘ That ’ s enough for today , ’ ” Pychyl says .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ us when we ’ re done , “ they ’ re going to eat us alive.
” Mary Therese Jackson is a remote work evangelist .
Last year , Jackson , the vice president of community programming and strategic planning for DC-based accelerator Springboard Enterprises , joined the Tulsa Remote program , which grants select workers $ 10,000 to relocate to Oklahoma .
She says working from home has made her more productive , flexible , and happier .
But the pandemic has threatened her carefully balanced schedule .
“ All of my @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Zoom calls .
And all of my emails , people wanted to be calls , ” she says .
As the rest of Jackson ’ s team went digital , they tried to mimic the physical office they ’ d left behind .
“ Every day , people were like , ‘ Let ’ s have a virtual happy hour !
’ ” They hoped it would boost morale and productivity , but Jackson says she got less done , and she noticed her coworkers starting to stress out , too .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we have all these tools , so we can just proceed as usual , ’ ” she says .
The challenge and opportunity of working from home is that it has forced teams to throw out the rulebook .
“ Having video conferences all day long is totally the wrong direction , ” Jason Fried , the co-founder of the all-remote software company Basecamp , told Marker in early April .
“ The beauty of remote working is the opportunity to improve the way you work , to cut way back on meetings @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of people that need to be involved in any decision , to cut back on the need to FaceTime constantly.
” But this utopic vision of the workplace can ’ t be achieved with conventional “ best practices.
” Cal Newport , a computer science professor at Georgetown University and the author of several books , including Digital Minimalism , says companies will have to learn to communicate less , but more effectively .
He says he believes managers will have to apply software-industry standards like the “ sprint ” — a set @ @ @ @ @ @ @ goals must be accomplished — to knowledge work writ large if they want their remote teams to succeed .
“ We ’ re all going to have to be a bit like the software geeks , for better or worse.
” Managers are also going to have to trust their employees , sometimes for the first time .
Many companies have resisted remote work because they like to keep an eye on their staffs .
“ If I see you here and being frantic and busy and looking stressed and always running into @ @ @ @ @ @ @ you ’ re not being lazy , ” Newport says .
Even now , employees are still feeling the need to perform their productivity while working remotely .
“ People just do it on email and Slack , ” Newport says .
“ It becomes a thing of like , ‘ Look , I ’ m the first person to respond.
’ ” Rather than reward this behavior , executives will have to create a new work culture that empowers employees to work the way that ’ s best for them — even @ @ @ @ @ @ @ off .
Burrows is still working remotely , along with a restless sea of other Americans who are realizing there is no end in sight .
But he may no longer have to spend his days entertaining Dipper : Burrows and his partner recently rescued two more finches , Mabel and Wendy .
Eleanor Cummins reports on the intersection of science and popular culture .
She ’ s a former assistant editor at Popular Science and writes a newsletter about death .
She previously wrote about the “ death-positive generation ” and the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The Highlight .
Every day at Vox , we aim to answer your most important questions and provide you , and our audience around the world , with information that has the power to save lives .
Our mission has never been more vital than it is in this moment : to empower you through understanding .
Vox ’ s work is reaching more people than ever , but our distinctive brand of explanatory journalism takes resources — particularly during a pandemic and an economic downturn .
Your financial contribution will not constitute @ @ @ @ @ @ @ our staff to continue to offer free articles , videos , and podcasts at the quality and volume that this moment requires .
Please consider making a contribution to Vox today .

Part of the July Issue of The Highlight, our home for ambitious stories that explain our world.
Since Matthew Burrows entered self-quarantine in March, he’s had to learn how to accommodate a new co-worker: Dipper, a chatty oatmeal- and eggshell-feathered finch with a beak the color of a traffic cone.
“I usually take my Zoom calls from my kitchen table over yonder, just so the background noise is a little muted,” Burrows says as Dipper trills in his cage.
Normally, finches would live in a lively flock, communicating in a constant pitter-patter. It’s the avian equivalent of an open office — an environment that also suited Burrows, an account manager at the technology PR firm the Hoffman Agency, until, faced with the pandemic, the company closed its San Jose, California, headquarters and sent employees home.
Since Burrows and his partner rescued Dipper in the first month of quarantine, the friendly finch has demanded a significant amount of attention — more than the couple could ever give him in a normal workday. To keep his new avian companion entertained while he works, Burrows DJs a nonstop mix of nerdy podcasts (Burrows is a fan of the McElroy Family’s extended universe) and random playlists (Dipper has “shown an appreciation for jazz”). If the sounds stop for too long or he selects something Dipper doesn’t like, the bird squawks — an angry staccato Burrows, now fluent in finch, ably mimics. “Ironically, we’ve been talking about what we’re going to do for [Dipper] when things get back to normal,” he says.
But working from home, and regularly diverting our attentions to pets, video games, kids and Tiger King, may just be the new normal. Before the pandemic, roughly 14 percent of Americans worked remotely five or more days a week, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. But since social distancing began, roughly half of workers are logging in from their scattered homes, apartments, and vacation rentals, according to research from Erik Brynjolfsson, a professor of management science at MIT. And even those who snagged an ergonomic office chair or upgraded their wifi have, like Burrows, found distractions around every corner.
Dipper isn’t even Burrows’s only diversion. “There are some days I need a break, and the video game console is right there,” he says. But however demanding he is, Dipper gives something back: “He’s really the alarm,” Burrows says, providing some structure to an otherwise amorphous remote workweek.
With limited coping mechanisms at their disposal, American workers like Burrows are increasingly in search of a respite from the inexorable grind of working through a pandemic. Shut indoors and starved of sports, the masses have turned to video games: Thanks to a run on consoles and pandemic-related production difficulties, the Nintendo Switch is effectively sold out. And Twitch, a platform that allows users to watch each others’ gameplay, saw traffic rise 20 percent between January and March. People are making time for streaming TV and movies, too. In the first quarter of 2020, Netflix added 15.8 million subscribers — and longtime users’ habits are changing. As they searched for “comfort” TV to fill the silence, daytime streaming rose 4 percent in March and April, according to streaming guide Reelgood.
Many are finding it impossible to simply stay focused through this year’s upheavals. When schools closed, parents were expected to become teachers without missing team meetings. “I feel like I have five jobs: mom, teacher, C.C.O., house cleaner, chef,” one woman told the New York Times. Zoom calls, both personal and professional, have quickly crowded people’s schedules, further cutting short working hours. Hungry for new information about the virus and the recent wave of protests, social media use exploded as people lost whole days to “doomscrolling”: mindlessly refreshing feeds in search of new information about the pandemic or politics. Other frantic activities, such as day trading, have also reached a fever pitch. The troubling results are reflected in users’ screen time reports, which track exactly how much time people spend on their devices.
As work and life bled together like a tie-dye sweatsuit, the US workday for many companies grew by three hours since March, according to NordVPN, a network service provider. “If I’m trying to schedule a call, in the past it could have been that between 9 am and 5 pm, most of us would be available,” says Ben Waber, the president and co-founder of organizational analytics firm Humanyze. “Today, that’s not the case. It could be that I’m working from 7 am to 7 pm and available some of those hours.” Now, meetings and rare moments of deep work are punctuated by online shopping, soothing puzzles, and training new pets.
The pandemic seems poised to bring about a long-awaited revolution in work culture. Everyone from rank-and-file employees to tech leaders like Mark Zuckerberg are calling for flexible work to continue after social isolation policies end. But the path forward is riddled with wiki rabbit holes, Super Mario Brothers, and timed naps. Once no-nos in the old days of the traditional office, they’re now essential components of the new remote work lifestyle.
Burrows, for one, isn’t complaining. “It’s nice to be able to move just two feet to my right, and there I am, ready for my lunch break.”
NASA communications scientist Jack Nilles coined the term “telecommuting” in the early 1970s. By the 1980s, his vision was becoming a reality as companies such as IBM installed “remote terminals” in employees’ homes. Each new technological development, from the laptop to the video call to the smartphone, made work more accessible.
By 2013, roughly 23 percent of Americans worked from home at least part of the week. But that year, Yahoo CEO Marissa Mayer called her employees back to the office. “Speed and quality are often sacrificed when we work from home,” she wrote in a widely circulated memo. When IBM — the original telework pioneer — followed suit in 2017, some wondered if work from home was simply a fad.
Though employers fear “shirking from home,” decades of research have shown that flexible work policies offer numerous benefits, says Nicholas Bloom, a professor of economics at Stanford University. Companies save on real estate and everyone cuts down on commute time. Workers are more productive, and they’re also more satisfied with their jobs. In the pandemic, those same practices that companies such as Yahoo and IBM recently eschewed are the only thing keeping them afloat. “The one overriding piece of feedback is that working from home is far better than anyone expected,” Bloom says. “We’re hearing that firms get the perception people are working harder.” But for employees, it can feel like treading water.
Without her colleagues around, Mariana Pelaez, a graphic designer for the Minneapolis nightclub First Avenue and 7th St Entry, says she’s experienced fewer external interruptions. But her attention wanders more easily. Instead of staying focused on design programs or Slack, Pelaez finds herself gravitating to Animal Crossing: New Horizons — which dropped March 20 and quickly became one of the bestselling games ever made for the Nintendo Switch — and conversations with her boyfriend, who now works right behind her. “I don’t know if it’s that I’m getting more distracted or taking longer because I’m at home, but I’m definitely taking longer to get things done,” she says.
Kenedie, an office worker and avid Twitch streamer in Ontario, Canada, has experienced similar struggles in social isolation — ones she’s not keen for her employer to know about, so she asked that Vox not use her full name. “I would go through this cycle of trying to work and still getting distracted, and then feeling guilty,” she says. “That’s still a challenge. Even though I’m still getting my workload done, I feel less productive.” While she is strict about not gaming during the workday, her second monitor is usually running Netflix or other people’s Twitch streams, and she gazes over from time to time while she works.
The meandering minds of remote workers around the world probably has less to do with working from home than the context in which we’re doing it — a once-in-a-century mass casualty event — says Larry Rosen, a professor emeritus of psychology at California State University Dominguez Hills and an expert in the science of distraction.
Our current predicament reminds Rosen of an influential 2010 study on multitasking: Researchers divided students into three groups and asked them to read a passage. One group had no distractions, one group received an instant message before they started reading, and a third group received instant messages as they read. When tested on the material, each group fared equally well, but the third group took the longest to complete the task.
“We are the third group right now,” Rosen says. “It is taking us longer to do everything. It is adding more stress.” While we eventually get everything done, it doesn’t feel like much of an accomplishment. Even Rosen, a longtime remote worker, says he’s recently struggled to stay on task. “I’m still in pajamas and robe at noon,” he says. And despite his best efforts to stay focused on his treadmill desk, tasks seem to slip through the cracks. “I find myself circling back at night to finish things.”
The pandemic isn’t the only challenge the country faces, either. We’re also in a period of profound social unrest and hurtling toward a presidential election. For Pelaez and her colleagues in Minneapolis, the police killing of George Floyd and the subsequent protests disrupted every aspect of their work and life. “That week, I don’t think anyone got anything done,” she says. “I think that just shows, even when we are stuck at home, everything that’s happening in the city is still going to affect us.”
These struggles are only exacerbated by our unprecedented isolation. “When you get a note from someone that says they’re following you on Instagram, when you crave connection, you immediately go there,” Rosen says. In an office, people usually spend part of the day chatting with colleagues. At the very least, they feel the presence of others around them. Now, “the only way to make up for it is to electronically talk to people, so you self-interrupt all the time,” Rosen says. “We think it’s making us happier, but we’re more stressed, and we’re struggling with work.”
The potent mix of professional productivity and personal strife could have serious consequences. “I think people are burning out, to be honest with you,” says Tim Pychyl, an associate professor of psychology at Carleton University in Canada and a leading researcher on procrastination. Pychyl says workers need clear boundaries to stay balanced. The 5 pm mass exodus from the office was a useful signal, but now everyone must rely on their own internal clocks. “We all have to have that ability to say, ‘That’s enough for today,’” Pychyl says. If we rely on companies to tell us when we’re done, “they’re going to eat us alive.”
Mary Therese Jackson is a remote work evangelist. Last year, Jackson, the vice president of community programming and strategic planning for DC-based accelerator Springboard Enterprises, joined the Tulsa Remote program, which grants select workers $10,000 to relocate to Oklahoma. She says working from home has made her more productive, flexible, and happier. But the pandemic has threatened her carefully balanced schedule.
“All of my phone calls, people wanted to be Zoom calls. And all of my emails, people wanted to be calls,” she says. As the rest of Jackson’s team went digital, they tried to mimic the physical office they’d left behind. “Every day, people were like, ‘Let’s have a virtual happy hour!’” They hoped it would boost morale and productivity, but Jackson says she got less done, and she noticed her coworkers starting to stress out, too.
“People were like, ‘Oh, we have all these tools, so we can just proceed as usual,’” she says.
The challenge and opportunity of working from home is that it has forced teams to throw out the rulebook. “Having video conferences all day long is totally the wrong direction,” Jason Fried, the co-founder of the all-remote software company Basecamp, told Marker in early April. “The beauty of remote working is the opportunity to improve the way you work, to cut way back on meetings, to cut back on the number of people that need to be involved in any decision, to cut back on the need to FaceTime constantly.” But this utopic vision of the workplace can’t be achieved with conventional “best practices.”
Cal Newport, a computer science professor at Georgetown University and the author of several books, including Digital Minimalism, says companies will have to learn to communicate less, but more effectively. He says he believes managers will have to apply software-industry standards like the “sprint” — a set period in which a predetermined list of goals must be accomplished — to knowledge work writ large if they want their remote teams to succeed. “We’re all going to have to be a bit like the software geeks, for better or worse.”
Managers are also going to have to trust their employees, sometimes for the first time. Many companies have resisted remote work because they like to keep an eye on their staffs. “If I see you here and being frantic and busy and looking stressed and always running into meetings, at least I know that you’re not being lazy,” Newport says. Even now, employees are still feeling the need to perform their productivity while working remotely. “People just do it on email and Slack,” Newport says. “It becomes a thing of like, ‘Look, I’m the first person to respond.’” Rather than reward this behavior, executives will have to create a new work culture that empowers employees to work the way that’s best for them — even if that involves a little therapeutic goofing off.
Burrows is still working remotely, along with a restless sea of other Americans who are realizing there is no end in sight. But he may no longer have to spend his days entertaining Dipper: Burrows and his partner recently rescued two more finches, Mabel and Wendy.
Eleanor Cummins reports on the intersection of science and popular culture. She’s a former assistant editor at Popular Science and writes a newsletter about death. She previously wrote about the “death-positive generation” and the people hell-bent on ignoring social distancing for The Highlight.