I spent most of the first half of 2026 living in Indonesia with my husband. We were living in the Eastern Indonesian time zone, which was 13 hours ahead of our hometown (US Mountain Time). While there, time felt strange—both incredibly broad and incredibly fractured. I still had 24 hours in my day, but I needed to bear in mind local time and things that needed doing in Indonesia, while also keeping hours that worked for the people I worked with. When would I work, given that nearly all my colleagues were many hours behind me?
My mind often felt like one of those walls with a series of clocks set to different times from places all over the world. I had a clock for Java (my home in Indonesia), one for Utah (my home in the US), and then clocks for the locations of my colleagues and our clients: Virginia, Serbia, the UK, Brazil, China, and Japan. The hardest zone of all was the US Pacific Time zone—just one hour different from Utah, but 14 hours behind me in Indonesia. If a West Coast colleague wanted to meet at 9am their time? That was 11pm in Java.
Time definitely felt like karet—rubbery—expanding to accommodate so many time zones. I needed to stretch to meet with colleagues I had usually felt geographically close to. But at the same time, it was exciting to feel nearer, in space and time, to colleagues working in places on the same side of the world as Indonesia.
Although a juggling act sometimes, it was remarkably easy to work from Southeast Asia while still doing my regular work: managing projects, problem-solving, answering questions in real time or asynchronously, collaborating on new initiatives, attending scheduled and unscheduled calls with colleagues and clients. I have worked remotely from Utah since 2008, so working remotely from Indonesia in 2026 felt pretty familiar, just with quieter days (mornings especially) and busier nights (Claude looked back at my schedule and tallied 207 night meetings while I was in Indonesia). The thing that didn’t change was the work I could do and the things I could accomplish.
Silverchair has embraced a remote-first policy since 2020. This practical approach allows us to recruit and hire qualified people all over the world, and it lets employees have increased flexibility. In-person time is really valuable, but when you have smart people engaged in the work they’re doing, the day-to-day work location is not as significant. Making things run smoothly for our colleagues and clients regardless of geographical location is what we do.
I highly recommend spending time in Indonesia—the food, the museums, the wildlife, the people, the batik (if you don’t already know batik, UNESCO’s write-up is a good place to start). But you don’t need to be there to experience waktu karet. It’s something we all experience in varying ways and at various periods in our lives.
Sometimes we need time to bend in creative ways. Think of the parent who picks up or drops off their child at school regularly, or the colleague who needs to help their aging parent with appointments from time to time, or the teammate who receives a diagnosis and must deal with unexpected and unwanted treatments. Or what about when we need to test out just how far time can stretch: when there is a deadline looming and an all-hands-on-deck approach is called for, or a vendor we work with is down and a quick solution is needed. Or when a colleague simply needs extra help dealing with a time-sensitive project. We all know these people, and we’ve all been these people. At Silverchair, we’re passionate about the work we do and compassionate toward the people we support and work with.
Living in Indonesia was a very rich experience, something I wouldn’t have missed. It’s also great to be back home in Utah. I now enjoy having a more normal-for-me working routine and living with about 40% less humidity. I appreciate knowing that the waktu-karet flexibility of time is there for me when I need it—because I know I will. Just like we’ll all need it.