Ah, the joys of having a “flexible” schedule. You know, the kind where friends and family assume you have nothing but free time simply because you don’t clock in at a traditional 9-to-5.
“Oh, you work from home? Perfect! You can pick up Aunt Linda’s prescription, babysit my three kids, and also plan Grandpa’s birthday party.”
No. No, I cannot.
Somehow, the fact that I’m not physically trapped in a cubicle means I am now the official Designated Responsible Person™ for all last-minute emergencies, errands, and tasks that no one else feels like doing. Did I unknowingly sign a contract? Is there a secret rulebook I wasn’t given? Because last time I checked, my work still requires actual work.
Let’s break it down:
Just because I’m not commuting doesn’t mean I have endless time. My commute is now the three seconds it takes to walk from my bed to my laptop, but trust me, the stress level is the same.
Yes, I can wear pajamas while working. No, that does not mean I am lounging around watching Netflix. (Well, maybe sometimes. But still.)
My flexible schedule means I work at odd hours, not that I’m a 24/7 personal assistant for all your life’s inconveniences.
Yet, despite my protests, the requests keep coming.
“Hey, since you’re home all day, can you wait for my package? Shouldn’t be more than six hours.”
“You can just work later, right? Can you run to the store real quick?”
“You’re your own boss, so you can just move things around.”
Yes, I could move things around. I could also move to another country and change my identity. Tempting.
So, dear family and friends, I love you—but please, I am not your default errand-runner. My time is valuable, even if I don’t have an office cubicle to prove it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do (in my pajamas, but still).
“Oh, You’re Free, Right?” – The Struggles of Being the ‘Responsible One’
You know the type—the ones who always assume you’ll handle it. Whether “it” is organizing the family reunion, taking Grandma to her doctor’s appointment, or somehow fixing Uncle Bob’s Wi-Fi even though you’ve never worked in IT.
And why? Because, apparently, if you’re not physically handcuffed to a desk for eight hours a day, you must be free.
“Oh, you work from home? Perfect! Can you swing by and pick up my dry cleaning?”
“Wait, you don’t have a 9-to-5? Cool, can you babysit my three kids for six hours?”
“Hey, you’re self-employed! That means you can take Nana to bingo, right?”
It’s like my schedule is written in invisible ink only I can see.
“Mom, I don’t feel well. Can you come get me?”
No. No, I cannot. You had one job: to stay at school for more than 20 minutes. My response? “Go to the nurse and let the professionals decide.”
And then there’s the infamous gym sabotage call. You’re about to park, finally getting that sliver of time to exercise and pretend you have a life. But just as you put the car in park, your phone rings. It’s your aunt.
“I got an email saying my passwords have been compromised. I don’t know how to set up a new one.”
You know this isn’t a quick fix. This is a minimum 15-minute conversation, including reassurance that no one is actively trying to steal her Facebook account.
But sure, I’ve got time. I always have time. Because according to friends and family, my schedule is just a giant, flexible void, ready to be filled with their emergencies.
So next time someone assumes I’m free, I’m just going to start responding with, “Oh, I’d love to help, but my Wi-Fi is down, my laptop exploded, and I just got drafted into the circus.”
Let’s see how that works.
