Comfortably Uncertain

Tag: remote-work

  • I’m Successful Because I’m Lazy

    I’m Successful Because I’m Lazy

    I don’t want to be working. Not a little less. Not a better version of it. At all.

    If I’m being honest, I would rather be spending my time with my family. Sitting outside. Traveling. Having long conversations. Doing things that actually feel like living. Work is not that for me.

    But I’m also very good at what I do. And I care about making good money. So instead of trying to learn how to love working, I’ve done something else. I’ve gotten very good at minimizing it.

    I think a lot of people assume success comes from working more. More hours. More effort. More output.

    That’s never made sense to me. If anything, I’ve always had the opposite instinct.

    If something takes too long, I want to figure out how to make it take less time. If something feels unnecessarily complicated, I assume there’s a simpler way. If something is repetitive, I don’t want to get better at doing it. I want to stop doing it entirely.

    Not because I don’t care. Because I don’t want to be doing it in the first place.

    That mindset forces you to get good at very specific things.

    You learn how to get to the point quickly. You learn what actually matters and what doesn’t. You learn how to produce results without a lot of wasted motion. You get comfortable cutting things that don’t need to exist. And you stop confusing effort with value.

    I don’t want to spend my day buried in work. So I’ve learned how to do it faster. Cleaner. More directly.

    I’ve learned how to make decisions quickly. How to prioritize what actually moves something forward. How to ignore the noise. How to finish things without dragging them out.

    And at a certain point, you realize you don’t need to be doing everything yourself.

    Not everything deserves your time. Not everything requires your attention. Some things can be handed off. Some things can be simplified. Some things can disappear entirely.

    Delegation stops feeling like a management skill and starts feeling like self-preservation.

    There’s also something else that happens when you don’t want to be working all the time.

    You protect your energy differently. You don’t waste it on things that don’t matter. You don’t volunteer for unnecessary complexity. You don’t build systems that require constant effort just to maintain.

    You start designing your work in a way that supports your life. Not the other way around.

    I still care about doing things well. I care about being effective. I care about being someone people trust and want to work with. That’s part of how you keep high-paying opportunities.

    But I have no interest in earning that by working more than necessary.

    If anything, my goal has always been simple.

    Do good work. Get paid well. And get back to my life.

    Calling it laziness might not be entirely accurate. But it’s close enough.

    I don’t want to spend my life working. So I’ve gotten very good at making sure I don’t have to any more than necessary.

    And that, more than anything, is what’s made me successful.de me successful.

    Comfortably Uncertain,

    Krista

  • Why Your Network Is the Most Underrated Job Search Tool You Have

    Why Your Network Is the Most Underrated Job Search Tool You Have

    I’ve been in my field for over a decade.

    In that time, I’ve held a lot of jobs. And all but two of them came from a referral — someone I’d worked with before, stayed in touch with, or had simply taken the time to know.

    Not my resume. Not a job board. Not a recruiter cold email.

    A person who thought of me when an opportunity came up.

    That’s what a network actually does when you’ve built one with intention.

    People hire people they know and trust.

    Job postings are public. Your competition on any given application is enormous.

    But a referral skips the line entirely.

    When someone vouches for you, you walk into the process with credibility already attached. The hiring manager isn’t starting from zero — they’re starting with a reason to believe in you.

    That’s an advantage no resume formatting tip can replicate.

    Your network is already working for you — or it isn’t.

    Here’s the thing most people don’t realize: your network is active whether you tend to it or not.

    If you’ve stayed in touch with former colleagues, shown up for people, and been someone worth remembering — it’s working for you right now, even when you’re not job hunting.

    If you’ve gone quiet, stayed siloed, and only reached out when you needed something — it’ll feel like starting from scratch every time.

    The key is consistency.

    You don’t need a big network. You need a real one.

    Don’t start collecting LinkedIn connections like trading cards.

    A handful of people who genuinely respect your work will open more doors than five hundred lukewarm follows ever will.

    Think about the people you’ve worked with who saw you at your best. Former managers. Colleagues who became friends. People whose work you admired. Those relationships — even the ones that have gone quiet — are worth rekindling.

    Most people are glad to hear from someone they once worked well with. You’re probably overthinking the reach-out.

    And if you’re starting from scratch — that’s okay.

    Not everyone has a decade of connections to lean on. Some people are switching industries. Some are early in their careers. Some are moving to a new country and rebuilding everything from the ground up.

    A network isn’t something you either have or don’t. It’s something you build — one conversation, one connection, one genuine interaction at a time.

    Start where you are. Comment thoughtfully on posts in your field. Show up in online communities. Reach out to people whose work you respect — not to ask for anything, but to say something real.

    The best time to build your network was yesterday.

    The second best time is right now — before you need it.

    Stay present. Stayed generous. Stay in touch.

    These relationships will pay you back 100 fold.

    Comfortably Uncertain,

    Krista

  • The 5 Things You Must Have Before You Can Get a Remote Job

    The 5 Things You Must Have Before You Can Get a Remote Job

    Remote work isn’t a trend anymore. It’s just work.

    But that doesn’t mean everyone gets access to it. The market is competitive, the bar is real, and “I want to work from home” is not a qualification.

    You’re here because you want in — and you want to know what’s actually standing between you and a job that doesn’t require pants or a commute.

    The internet is full of advice that amounts to “be good at things and apply.”

    Groundbreaking. This isn’t that.

    These are the five things that actually move the needle — the ones that separate the people who land remote roles from the ones who are still refreshing LinkedIn six months later.

    1. A LinkedIn profile that doesn’t look like a graveyard

    If your last update was three jobs ago and your headline still says “Seeking New Opportunities,” you’re already losing.

    Remote hiring moves fast. Recruiters aren’t detectives — they’re not going to piece together your potential from a sparse profile.

    Your LinkedIn needs to be active, specific, and optimized for the kind of role you want. A headline with keywords. A summary that sounds like a human wrote it. Recent activity that signals you’re engaged.

    Visibility is currency in remote job hunting.

    2. A skill set you can actually demonstrate

    “Hard worker” and “team player” are not skills.

    Neither is “proficient in Microsoft Office” — unless it’s 2003, in which case, hello, time traveler.

    Remote employers need to trust you can do the work without someone looking over your shoulder. That trust starts with proof.

    A portfolio. A case study. A GitHub. A body of writing. Whatever your field calls for — you need something tangible to point at.

    Telling people you’re good at something is a lot less convincing than showing them.

    3. A home setup that actually works

    Nobody’s expecting a broadcast studio.

    But a chaotic background, an echo-y room, and internet that drops every 20 minutes will sink you — especially in the interview stage.

    Remote companies hire for remote readiness. If your setup signals that you haven’t thought this through, that’s the message they take into their hiring decision.

    A clean, quiet space and a reliable connection aren’t perks. They’re the price of admission.

    4. The ability to communicate in writing — and do it well

    In a remote environment, most of your work happens in writing.

    Slack messages. Emails. Project updates. Async feedback. It’s all text.

    If your written communication is unclear, slow, or easy to misread, you will struggle. Full stop.

    The candidates who write clearly and concisely stand out immediately — because a lot of people genuinely cannot.

    5. A positioning strategy — not just a resume

    A resume is not a strategy. It’s a document.

    The people who land remote jobs intentionally are the ones who’ve thought about who they want to work for, what problem they solve, and how they show up across every touchpoint.

    Resume. LinkedIn. Portfolio. Outreach. All of it needs to point in the same direction.

    Spray-and-pray applications rarely work in competitive remote markets. Clarity of direction isn’t just motivating — it’s a tactical advantage.

    None of this is complicated. But all of it requires intention.

    Remote work doesn’t come to people who are passively hoping for it. It comes to people who’ve done the work to be ready for it.

    If you’re not sure where to start, start with whichever one on this list made you wince the most.

    That’s your answer.

    Comfortably Uncertain,

    Krista

  • 20 Questions to Ask Yourself Before Moving Abroad

    20 Questions to Ask Yourself Before Moving Abroad

    Everyone romanticizes the idea of moving abroad.

    Cheaper rent. Slower mornings. Beautiful weather. A fresh start somewhere far away from the life you built before.

    But the truth is that moving abroad isn’t just a travel decision — it’s a life design decision.

    And the people who thrive after moving are usually the ones who ask themselves a few uncomfortable questions before they ever buy the plane ticket.

    If you’re seriously considering living abroad, here are twenty questions worth sitting with first.

    The 10 Questions

    1. Do I want to move, or do I just need a vacation?

    Sometimes the urge to leave everything behind is really just a sign that you’re burned out.

    A long break, a change of scenery, or a slower season of life can solve a lot of things that relocation won’t.

    2. Can I realistically be away from family and close friends for extended periods of time?

    Distance changes relationships.

    Even with video calls and messaging, living abroad often means missing birthdays, holidays, and everyday moments.

    Some people handle that easily. Others find it much harder than they expected.

    3. Can I legally and sustainably work in my new country?

    This is one of the most practical questions — and one of the most overlooked.

    Understand your visa options, remote work situation, and whether your income will realistically support the lifestyle you’re envisioning.

    4. Does my new country have the infrastructure I require?

    Things like internet reliability, healthcare quality, transportation systems, and access to everyday services can vary dramatically between places.

    What feels normal where you live now may look very different somewhere else.

    5. Am I ready to adapt to a new culture, customs, and traditions?

    Living somewhere is very different from visiting.

    Things will be done differently — and that’s part of the experience.

    The question is whether you’re excited to learn those differences or frustrated by them.

    6. What am I hoping this move will change about my life?

    People often move abroad hoping for a slower, more intentional life.

    That can absolutely happen — but it’s worth understanding what you expect to be different.

    7. What happens if those things don’t change right away — or at all?

    Sometimes life abroad looks surprisingly similar to life at home.

    You still work. You still have responsibilities. You still have ordinary days.

    Being realistic about that makes the transition much easier.

    8. How do I handle uncertainty, inconvenience, and things not going as planned?

    New countries mean new systems.

    Banking, paperwork, housing, and government processes can sometimes be slower or more confusing than you’re used to.

    Patience goes a long way.

    9. Am I comfortable feeling like an outsider for a while?

    Even in welcoming places, it takes time to feel like you belong.

    You might not understand every cultural reference, social norm, or conversation right away.

    That’s a normal part of the process.

    10. How important is convenience to me in my daily life?

    Some countries offer incredible quality of life but less convenience.

    Things may take longer. Systems may be less streamlined.

    For some people, that trade-off feels completely worth it.

    11. Can I slow down without feeling anxious, unproductive, or behind?

    A slower lifestyle can be wonderful — but it can also feel uncomfortable at first if you’re used to constant productivity.

    Learning how to enjoy a different pace takes time.

    12. What parts of my identity are tied to where I currently live?

    Where you live often shapes who you are.

    Your job, routines, friendships, and social environment all contribute to your sense of identity.

    Moving can shift that in ways you may not expect.

    13. How do I respond when familiar routines and structure disappear?

    One of the biggest adjustments abroad is rebuilding everyday structure.

    New grocery stores. New routes. New habits.

    Some people thrive in that process. Others struggle without familiar routines.

    14. What trade-offs am I willing to accept — and which ones would eventually feel like dealbreakers?

    Every lifestyle comes with trade-offs.

    Living abroad may mean giving up certain conveniences while gaining other things that matter more.

    Being honest about your limits helps prevent long-term frustration.

    15. How adaptable am I when systems are inefficient or unclear?

    Not every place runs as smoothly as the systems you might be used to.

    Sometimes things take longer. Sometimes instructions are unclear.

    Adaptability is one of the most valuable traits for people living abroad.

    16. How do I build community, and am I willing to start from scratch?

    Building meaningful relationships takes time anywhere.

    When you move abroad, you’re often starting that process all over again.

    Understanding how you build friendships can make the transition much easier.

    17. What role does work play in my sense of purpose and stability?

    For many people, work provides structure, identity, and stability.

    If your move changes your relationship with work, it’s worth thinking about how that might affect your sense of purpose.

    18. How does my nervous system respond to new environments and stimulation?

    New languages, sounds, cultural norms, and routines can feel exciting — but also overwhelming.

    Some people thrive in new environments. Others need more time to adjust.

    19. Am I moving toward something meaningful — or away from something uncomfortable?

    Moving abroad works best when it’s part of a larger vision for your life.

    Escaping discomfort rarely solves the deeper issue.

    Building toward something meaningful usually does.

    20. If this move ends up being temporary, would it still feel worthwhile?

    Not every move abroad lasts forever.

    But even a few years in another country can reshape how you see the world.

    If the experience itself feels meaningful, the timeline matters less.

  • Why I’ll Never “Return to Office”

    Why I’ll Never “Return to Office”

    In October 2017 I was back in the office having a very important meeting with my manager. My four-month-old daughter was in the care of a co-worker. That lasted about twenty minutes before she realized I was nowhere to be found and started screaming so loudly I could hear her from ten doors down.

    That moment was clarifying.

    Earlier that year, in June, I had given birth to my daughter, Emilia. I had what most Americans would call a generous maternity leave. I fully intended to return to work, find a nearby daycare, and settle into the rhythm so many families follow.

    It took one daycare tour for me to realize I couldn’t do it.

    At the same time, my mom had just retired and was planning her move to Arizona. She was the only person I felt completely comfortable leaving Emilia with. We are close — the kind of close where a move across the country feels like an amputation. The thought of her leaving, and me staying behind, felt impossible.

    So there I was. Sitting in a private office with my manager, an HR team member, and my infant daughter.

    Earlier that month I had taken a risk and submitted a request to work remotely. Our plan was simple in theory and terrifying in practice: follow my mom to Arizona. My husband would quit his job to care for Emilia full-time. I would work from home.

    This was 2017.

    Remote work wasn’t mainstream yet. I would be the first person on my U.S. team to go fully remote. But our company had global offices. We were already dialing into international meetings at odd hours. The infrastructure existed — it just wasn’t common.

    My request was approved.

    On January 27, 2018, Emilia and I boarded a flight from SeaTac to Phoenix. Jorge drove a moving truck packed with everything we owned. We didn’t know exactly what we were building — we just knew we were choosing our family first.

    I haven’t worked in an office since.

    Over the years I’ve had roles that required occasional travel. I’ve worked with teammates I’ve never met in person. Entire projects have been built through Slack threads and video calls. This is the era we live in.

    And remote work is the reason for everything that followed.

    It allowed us to move from state to state while we figured out where we wanted to plant roots. It gave us the flexibility to experiment with lifestyle instead of defaulting to geography. It eventually made our move to Mexico possible.

    Remote work is not just a location change. It’s leverage.

    When I think back to my early career, I remember the commute. The rigid schedule. The unspoken rule that productivity equaled physical presence. Eight hours in a chair whether the work took four or twelve. Time measured by badge swipes and fluorescent lighting.

    I gained those hours back.

    I gained mornings at home. Midday walks. Doctor’s appointments that didn’t require half a vacation day. I gained the ability to design my day around output instead of optics.

    I also stopped getting sick every other month. Offices are a breeding ground for shared germs, recycled air, and exhaustion cycles. Removing myself from that environment changed my health in ways I didn’t expect.

    And financially? The impact was significant.

    No daily commuting costs. No professional wardrobe churn. No convenience spending because I was too tired to cook. Fewer impulse purchases tied to corporate life. Remote work quietly increased our margins.

    Over time, those margins compounded.

    The most important shift, though, wasn’t logistical or financial.

    It was psychological.

    I stopped tying my value to a building. I stopped believing I needed to be seen to be effective. I started evaluating work based on results, not residency.

    That one request in 2017 reshaped the trajectory of my life.

    If you are sitting in an office right now feeling the tension between the life you want and the structure you’re operating inside, I understand it deeply. I was there. I made the ask before it was popular. I built the case. I took the risk.

    Remote work gave me the freedom to design our life intentionally.

    It can do the same for you — if you’re willing to ask differently.