The nine o'clock is already running long, the headset is warm, and the door behind the laptop has just opened for the third time. Nobody in the house is being unreasonable. They simply do not believe the meeting is real until they see it.
The artwork makes it official. A giant flat status pill spans the chest, a dot lit at its left and ON A CALL filling it in heavy condensed capitals. Beneath it sits a muted bell, and beneath that the two house rules, set in the same flat, polite voice: Do not come in. Do not ask what's for dinner. Clean vector shapes, three flat spot inks, no app, no logo, nothing borrowed from anyone's screen.
Soft and cozy with a hood, for the cold mornings when the home office is the one room nobody is supposed to walk into.
It goes to the coworker whose household makes a guest appearance in every standup, the partner who has fielded the dinner question live on camera, or the friend who works from the spare room and guards it closely. Bought for yourself first, then for whoever needs the rules in writing.
Knock if it is on fire.
