I’m a little too self-conscious to let it all (Google) hangout

HOW odd that the coronavirus hasn’t just infected the population but spread across our vocabulary too.

Only a few short weeks ago nobody had heard of Covid or social distancing or furloughing. Now those words have become part of everyday speech, as familiar to us as Joe Wicks’ exercises and washing our hands once an hour.

And adding to the list comes ‘hangout’.

Hitherto, many people might have been forgiven for thinking hangouts were what teenagers did in the park, usually with a bottle of cider.

Now, though, hangouts are everywhere – via Google, Zoom, House Party. They are all the rage – a way to connect face to face with friends and colleagues online.

This is all very well if the people you’re inviting into your home are your mates. They won’t mind catching sight of the dirty dishes in the sink behind you or the occasional shouting match off-camera between the kids.

But it’s a different kettle of fish when it’s the office calling.

People who up to now you’ve spoken to only to enquire about a lack of milk in the office fridge are peering into your home and your private life, judging you on your taste in wallpaper, the piles of unironed washing lurking in the background. Or maybe that’s just me. I spend my working life on hangouts these days and my dining room has never looked more immaculate, with artfully arranged family photos on bookshelves, vases of flowers and scatter cushions always in view of the camera.

Off screen, the room looks like we’ve been burgled but I’m determined that, to my colleagues at least, I appear as if I live in one of those perfectly dressed rooms in Ikea.

The other thing with work hangouts is that they force you to look presentable – at least from the waist up. I thought working from home meant I could dispense with the tyranny of make-up, hair washing and ironing, but no – apparently it does your career no good to resemble someone who lives in a bin on the 9am call with the boss.

There are compensations. If you’re nosey you can glean fascinating detail about colleagues – is that a ukulele in the background? And, given the decor, who knew they were colour blind?

Best of all, despite being physically apart, hangouts have brought us together in an unexpected way, putting flesh on the bones of Carol from accounts or that bloke who sat by the door and never spoke, turning them from colleagues into people.

I’m still going to run a duster round before that 3pm call, though.