I get this question a lot:
“Steve, how do you make money working from your RV?”
The first thing I tell them is, “My name’s not Steve.” Then I explain that I’ve worked remotely as a writer for years, using the Internet and phones to stay in touch with clients and employers. I realized one day that I could do this anywhere, which meant that we could travel and still make money. So now, all I need is a reliable cellular connection for both my cell phone and Jetpack MiFi and I’m good to keep the cash dribbling in.
But there are challenges being a digital nomad in a nudist world.
First, when you’re a digital nomad working in an RV, you can’t shake the notion that you should be out and about doing stuff. It’s hard to adjust to the idea that you’re living on the road, not having a vacation.
It’s especially hard when you’re staying at a nudist resort or a campground or a textile RV park and you see retirees free and strolling around, chatting and laughing, playing cornhole or pickleball, planning sightseeing trips and generally have a grand ol’ time without obligations. I know they’ve put in their time, but they shouldn’t flaunt it in front of us working stiffs. Jerks.
Second, there are distracting noises unique to this lifestyle.
It may be the aforementioned retirees, laughing right outside your window while you’re on the phone and at the exact moment your client informs you that their dog just died.
It may be your dog barking at plastic bag or something equally frightening, at the very moment your employer is telling you over the phone that he’s uncomfortable with you working remotely because he’s afraid you’ll be distracted.
It may be the air conditioner, notoriously loud in RVs, kicking on like a jet engine at the very moment that your irritable client is giving you feedback on your copy.
Third, being a digital nomad means you rely on technology.
Contrary to what Silicon Valley wants you to believe, technology often sucks. To wit:
You spend hours locating the perfect place to park your RV for a week or month to work, pouring over the cell phone company coverage maps to make sure you’ll get excellent coverage. You show up on the weekend, pay your fees, get all set up and comfy only to discover Monday morning that you’re in some sort of anti-signal vortex and your phone calls are dropping like underwear at a proctology clinic.
Or a coworker is so enamored with technology that they think this is the perfect opportunity to use Skype for a face-to-face chat. But the problem is you’re sitting there naked. And you haven’t showered or even brushed your hair. So you tell them politely that your laptop camera is broken. Then you put tape across it anyway you’re paranoid they can somehow turn it on at any moment.
Of course there are glorious moments, when you pry your fingers away from the keyboard, step outside and take a walk naked around the resort. Or, throw on some clothes and hop in the car for a quick hike in the hills right behind your site. Being a digital nomadic nudist isn’t always glamorous, but somebody’s gotta do it.