Earworm Weekly: “Work From Home” By Fifth Harmony

As a rule, I don’t believe in guilty pleasures. If I like it, I like it, and damn anyone else’s expectations. I have nothing to prove about my musical taste. Those who don’t like it can kiss my paycheck.

This week’s earworm is testing that rule.


“Work From Home” is a saucy little pop number suggesting that the (collective) singer’s fella take a work-from-home day and spend it working out horizontally. That, plus a lot of repetition of the word “work,” a guest verse by vocalist Ty Dolla $ign, and a bubbly synth hook, is the entirety of the song. It’s slight, and the video makes my teeth hurt. But the music is infectious. Plus it makes me smirk. A lot. I have my reasons.

Fifth Harmony is this decade’s entry in the Spice Girls-Pussycat Dolls category, a pop girl group with super-smooth harmonies and super-slick production. The five teenage members of the group met as strangers when auditioning for X Factor and got thrown together by the show producers to see what might happen.

The result? Fifth Harmony finished third on the show, got a record deal, bonded hard in hotel rooms and on tour vans, and took their debut album to triple-platinum status. “Work From Home,” from their second album, is the first single by a girl group to break the Billboard Top Ten since the Pussycat Dolls did it in 2008.

As for me, I haven’t had a desk job since the Pussycat Dolls were on the charts. This means – that’s right – that I work from home. I know, it’s not the same thing as the merely occasional “work from home day,” but close enough for earworm purposes. More notably, though I’m mostly retired from it now, I got my start writing about sex. My inner 12-year-old thinks this makes “Work From Home”  the most hilarious double-entendre song on the planet.

But, alas, I am not the kind of writer who sits at home in her skimpies while working on a deadline. In fact, I am one of those boring people who has to get up, get dressed, and go through a whole morning routine, just like a traditional office-dweller, before I’m ready to face my working day.

Granted, my home office does permit sweat pants, t-shirts and bare feet in its dress code, and nobody clocks how long my lunch break really takes. Flex-time is a given and I never have to worry about being micromanaged to death. Plus, the commute can’t be beat. Nonetheless, I don’t “work” from home, I work from home, if you catch my drift. This gig isn’t nearly as glamorous as Fifth Harmony makes it sound, but it’s still fun sometimes to sing “Work From Home” to myself and pretend otherwise.

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