Another late night post – another rambling post.
It’s Friday night and all across Melbourne tired commuters jam into trams, trains, cars to travel home in close close proximity to other workers. Or ride bikes through the wet traffic jammed streets as part of unplanned packs. Tired but for many hopeful; for many tomorrow is not just another day of the same work routine, the same repetitive trip from home to office and back again.
We spend so much time at work, so much energy that it can be we end up relating a sense of ourselves to our work performance. Does this offer us a sense of thrill for the time out, the glorious weekend? Or does it become merely the pause, the day you step out of your work head, recharge and then step back in again for your next working day?
I’ve always been an office worker, a ‘9-5’er’, one of those people portrayed in cartoons as an automaton stepping on and off a production line. My weekends are magic days counted down from Wednesday ‘hump day’ with hope and excitement; regardless of whether I have something new to do or whether I have designated the time to lie on the sofa with a book.
Now that I am older I talk to friends who work different jobs, who work scattered hours, less set patterns of work – and wonder if we are all missing out. Could we be more productive in both life and work if we worked less hours and gained more focus on both?