I work remotely. Last week, my boss asked to take my laptop to install a “productivity” tool that would track my working hours. I refused. “I don’t need a digital babysitter,” I said. “Remote work runs on trust, not control!”

The next day, HR insisted I install it anyway. I smiled, thanked them, and complied. Turns out, this so-called “productivity” software is nothing more than spyware that monitors every mouse movement and keystroke. If you stop moving the cursor for three minutes, your status turns red, and your boss receives a “low activity” alert.

But what they didn’t know is that now I have my own workaround: I tape my mouse to my Roomba whenever I step away, or casually spin a pen on my mousepad when I’m on my desk but doing something else.

Still, something inside me has shifted. I can’t give to this job the way I once did—now that I know trust has been replaced with surveillance. Before, it felt like I was building something of my own; I worked with heart, with pride.

But that’s gone. The moment they decided to monitor my every move, something vital between us broke, and I don’t think it can be repaired.