They also gathered in “meeting rooms” to take part in religious ceremonies conducted by a priest known as the “manager”, who recited a long list of meaningless tasks penitents must undertake. In this era, humans sat in glass booths so they could be observed at all times. Feel like archaeologist analysing ancient civilisation. October: Head back to now-empty office to pick up more books. Tip for readers: if Bartleby is invited to a summer party in 2021, it is a sign of the impending apocalypse.

September: Just as The Economist organises weekly in-person gatherings so staff can start the process of returning to work, cases begin to rise. If more than half the participants press it, the speaker is cut off. More extreme measures clearly required: a mild electric shock for those who speak for more than two minutes? Or the “raise hand” button could be converted into a “thumbs down” function. “Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we get locked down” seems to be the (prescient) motto. Restaurants reopen and Britons recreate the feasts of Bacchanalia. How about a countdown clock, like the ones on television game shows, as speakers approach the one-minute mark, with a loud buzzer at the end? Hint to all participants: when the person chairing the meeting asks, “Does anyone else have any comments?”, the correct answer is invariably “No”.Īugust: Rain ruins short domestic holiday. Start to fantasise about ways of shortening Zoom meetings. The prospect of any break in routine seemed absurdly alluring. The main dilemma for the month was whether to cancel the summer holiday, or to hold on in the hope that the decline in covid-19 cases was permanent. Every day seemed the same weekends lost their meaning. June: A “Groundhog Day” syndrome had set in. The novelty of working from home had yet to wear off, and the absence of the daily commute was still a blessing. The British weather was good, with the sunniest spring on record, making it possible to work in the garden. May: Perhaps the best month of the lockdown. Sure enough, “you’re on mute” and “please mute yourself” became the breakout phrases of 2020. In blissful ignorance, he returned home to a blizzard of emails, tweets and WhatsApp messages telling him to shut up.

At some point, his phone (while still in his pocket) became unmuted, meaning that his heavy trudge, and heavy breathing, was audible to every other participant on the call. Faced with an editorial meeting on a bank holiday, Bartleby combined it with a soothing river walk. April: Some individuals were still struggling to master Zoom etiquette.

A plague year