My cow-orker is one of these people. She works for the State and only has to put in 7.5 hours a day, but routinely puts in 10 at least. I shake my head and leave after my 7.5 unless I have some pressing deadline that night (have to make FedEx) or first thing in the morning.
What do we do that is so important and time-sensitive? Nothing. We’re editors. We have long lead times on our work. Which means, if you need to stay until 8pm on a Friday night, you either cannnot manage your time properly or you have no life. Somehow, I manage to get all my work done in about 6 hours, with plenty of time for goofing off. I am not hanging around here just so other people think I work really hard.
Cow-orker had returned from a several-day business trip one Friday. I had taken care of things while she was away – there was not a lot of work backed up on her, besides her 117 e-mails, most of which were probably spam. As I walked out the door at 4:30 I said, “Don’t work too hard. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?” knowing that her kids and hubby had gone camping and she’d have a nice quiet house to herself. (Working moms: is there a more tempting offer?) Well, she’d decided she had to stick around to finish things up.
Is it due first thing Monday?
No.
Do you have other things due Monday or Tuesday that will get in the way of finishing this?
No.
So you’re telling me that you want to stay here on a Friday night, to work on something with a vague and nebulous deadline that is a task that only you care about, is that right?
Pretty much.
I tried to encourage her to, I dunno, have a life, but she insisted this stupid memo or whatever it was, was far more important.
I might also add: are these the same people who believe they will be promoted up the ladder for working 100 hours a week? At my old company, at the very least, they were the people who got all the awards and recognition for their “acheivements.” (You should see my achievements: I have the most beautiful butterfly garden on the block!) I realized years ago, that I will never be a successful executive. I will never win the Pulitzer or the Nobel Peace Prize, or the National Book Award. My name will never be known far and wide; I will die unknown and of little importance. But my friends and family will feel well-loved, my pets will be spoiled rotten, my garden will be beautiful and I am the only person who cares about those things. And that’s fine with me. I am not willing to give up my life, meaningless as it may be, for some job/work/profession that is even more meaningless, i.e. making someone else rich. I am simply not willing to put in enough time or effort to earn any sort of recognition. The simpler things in life are far more important.
So, instead of encouraging these workaholics to go the fuck home, I say: Hey you stay here and work your ass off. Somebody’s got to be the overachiever around here. It ain’t gonna be me. I’d rather go play in the sunshine.
To quote my hero, Cartman:
Screw you guys, I’m going home.