Before COVID, “professional” meant crisp suits, polished shoes, tidy offices, and meetings where no one’s toddler wandered in and asked for a snack.

Now? I spend most of my days on Zoom—or more recently, in GoBrunch—sharing virtual space with incredibly talented, driven creatives... in their living rooms, kitchens, and home offices. I’ve met people’s pets before I’ve learned their website woes. I’ve checked out their bookcases, admired their coffee mugs, and occasionally glimpsed their cat’s tail mid-sentence. And honestly?

It’s wonderful.

A while back, I was in a meeting where a brilliant business woman spent several minutes apologizing for her dog. He barked. He needed to go outside. He came back in. She apologized every time—even though I wasn’t bothered. In fact, I think I felt more connected to her because of it. She’d tried for professional distance, but the dog crushed that meeting.

The thing is, we’ve all had those moments. Children interrupting. Spouses wandering into frame. A cat confidently stepping on the keyboard mid-presentation (my personal favorite).

Silly story: once, years before COVID, I was working a tech support desk when a cat fell through the ceiling over my head and landed on my keyboard. I was controlling the client’s computer on remote at the time. Ah… professionalism was different in those days.

These things aren’t distractions—they’re humanity. They’re a part of our everyday lives that used to be hidden behind the walls of professionalism, and now they’re on full display.

And maybe that’s a good thing.

We’re also dressing more comfortably—saving money on work wardrobes, sure, but also bringing a different energy to our days. No one needs to wear heels to their kitchen desk. No one should feel the need to throw on a blazer just to feel legitimate from the shoulders up. There’s something beautifully grounded about logging into a meeting in your cozy clothes and still showing up with clarity, creativity, and confidence.

One caution: I once had a man come to a meeting in a bath robe. I’d recommend wearing clothes.

Professionalism used to mean sanitized. But maybe it should mean authentic.

In traditional office spaces, relationships evolve slowly. You start buttoned-up, polite, maybe even guarded. But over time, with repeated interactions, the edges soften. You start to see the real human behind the title. We learn who we can trust, who we connect with as we break thru the professional walls.

The same thing is happening now in our digital spaces—but faster. The interruptions, the cats, the kitchen chairs? They accelerate connection.

That dog repeatedly interrupting the business meeting? It was real. Relatable. Delightful.

Here’s what I’ve come to believe: vulnerability is not the opposite of professionalism. It’s part of it.

In a world where technology can sometimes separate us, those very human glitches—the unmuted cough, the dog bark, the messy bun—remind us that we’re still people, still trying, still connecting. And that counts for something.

In fact, it might count for everything.

So here’s my suggestion: let’s stop apologizing. Let’s retire the “sorry about the mess” and “ignore the barking” and “I didn’t have time to put on real pants.” Let’s celebrate this new version of professionalism that values connection, authenticity, and trust over polish and perfection.

Because when we show up as ourselves—and still do excellent work—that’s not unprofessional. That’s revolutionary.

What’s the most delightfully human interruption you’ve seen in a post-COVID meeting—one that actually made you feel more connected, not less?