Palm-tree-filled Zoom calls look good until geopolitics says otherwise.
My desk is a disaster. Cold brew from this morning, now room temperature. A stack of unopened mail that’s been piling up since the holiday break. Outside my window: rain. Not the romantic kind. This downpour is more Mary J. Blige and Ja Rule than Soul for Real. When I log on to my first video call of the day, I see the same gloom in everyone else’s backgrounds.
