How to survive as a ghost (2)

Can someone be a brilliant pro and a complete fool? Find out.

(Begin the series here)

The workplace I’d been in for the past few years—until a phone call changed everything—was pretty laid-back and pleasant. There wasn’t an explicit company policy on remote work, but the bosses were flexible. If you had personal stuff to handle, you could work from home, no questions asked, as long as your work got done. It was an unspoken deal that worked for everyone: employees could schedule personal appointments during work hours or take a day to chill at home, the bosses kept the team happy, and it helped retain talent at zero cost. Everything was fine.

Then one of my colleagues, a middle manager like me but from another department, spent a few days “working from home”… while posting photos from Bali on social media. She was answering emails, managing her team flawlessly, and professionally ticking every box. The only difference? Her Instagram selfies in a bikini, making a duck face with a tropical waterfall in the background.

This colleague is young (25), sharp, highly qualified, and does stellar work. Professionally, she’s untouchable, and everyone who works with her raves about her. But this stunt showed a complete lack of common sense. She didn’t see what was obviously coming: everyone in the office saw her living it up and thought, “I want to work from Bali too.”

I was buried in my tasks as usual, steering clear of office gossip and social drama, so I had no clue about the wildfire spreading around me. Arguments, demands, and fights erupted everywhere. It all ended with the CEO slamming his fist on the table and declaring, “Remote work is done in this company. Everyone comes to the office every single day, no exceptions!” The unspoken rule became a spoken one, and it screwed everyone over.

Right after this mess, I got a phone call with a new job offer. I accepted and gave my bosses two weeks’ notice that I was leaving.

My skill set is hyper-specific—qualities that are common individually but rare together. I’d proven time and again a level of professionalism and team-first attitude that’s hard to come by. Since no one else could do my job, I spent those two weeks (in my free time) putting together a detailed 50-page “onboarding pack” for whoever would replace me, packed with info, contacts, tips, report templates—everything to make the transition as smooth and painless as possible for the company.

The day before I left, after saying my goodbyes, my direct boss came to me with an offer to stay on remotely. They’d found a replacement, and the deal was done, but when the new hire saw the scope of my role and responsibilities, they bailed for another company (Deloitte). With things falling apart, the leadership team met, and the CEO swallowed his words from two weeks earlier, making an exception for me to work remotely.

So now I’m juggling two jobs: the new one I was offered and the old one, which I keep up with no fixed hours. The new gig has some long-term uncertainty, so holding onto the old one complicates my life short-term (I’m working a ton), but the steady income is a critical safety net for my future plans.

It’s too early to know if my bosses will stick to their decision or if this is just a stopgap before they let me go. The CEO didn’t even look me in the eye when I went to say goodbye, let alone speak to me. Word is, the remote work fire flared up again when everyone heard about my new arrangement. You never know what’ll happen down the line, but for now, the wound’s still fresh.

My only move is to keep a low profile until things settle down and, hopefully, this setup sticks for the long haul. If they fire me in a few months? I’ll keep pushing forward with my plan, using whatever tools I’ve got, without wasting energy crying over what I can’t control. For now, I keep my work quiet, my communications brief and professional, acting like an external contractor who delivers but barely exists. My social media posts stay discreet, shared only with close friends. I don’t know what the future holds, but this is great practice for learning how to become a ghost.