We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Ask a farmer about work hours. During my career-building years, I worked 12-14 hour days. I have never regretted that, and I learned a lot in doing so. Oftentimes in my NYC days, I needed to work 24-hour days and all weekend too, and you would never hear any bitchin from me about that. Glad to have the work. Many times caught with my unconscious face planted on desk.
In my current self-employed era, I work just as hard and long as I choose to. Rarely less than 11 hours/day, and in spare time on weekends. Work is good. Mrs. Barrister values my effort enormously, which encourages me and cheers me on. She rewards me by being sweet to me and by making me a nice life. I am productive, useful, and I make money.
What else would I do, anyway? I like to read books at night, not during daytime. I surf the web when I need a short break from concentration and writing. I hate the boob tube.
It has been a great pleasure for me to provide Mrs. B with the ladylike, genteel life she aspired to. Raising kids, playing sports, seeing friends, volunteering, gardening, cooking, reading littacher and studying art history, messing with the horses. Just like her Mom. Fine with me because it all enriches my gracious Connecticut life.
Weekends I mainly structure around manual labor around the Barrister Estate, church, and socializing in evenings. We are constantly making new friends, sometimes more than we can handle. It all does me good. Life is short.
I intend to work until I drop, or until nobody needs or wants me. I guess that's my Calvinist culture and upbringing which requires being useful and productive. It works for me. Vacations and trips, however interesting, make me restless. Except for Thailand, India, and the Midi. Camera? Never, ever. After the kids got bigger, I threw it away. For me, it interferes.
Word to the wise: Learn to do some things with your hands that are satisfying and that aren't a lot of physical or mental work. That way when you're too old to do hard physical or mental labor for pay, you will have something to do. (Been there, doing that.)
It helps though if at the end of that 12 hour day, one can look at the work done and know what one has done: cut the hay field, built the chair, fought the law case, seen a set of patients... 12 hours of retail or 12 hours of batting the same bit of paper back and forth? Not so fulfilling.
I find satisfaction in my paper pushing desk job. Because I do complete projects. It also is nice to get a new project to dig into.
I think people can find satisfaction in all kinds of jobs. Even retail. People are what make life interesting, so make the most of that retail job and talk to them! I like to engage with clerks in the check out line as a customer...it can be fun!
The pressure of a round-the-clock work culture — in which people are expected to answer emails at 11 p.m. and take cellphone calls on Sunday morning — is particularly acute in highly skilled, highly paid professional services jobs like law, finance, consulting and accounting.
as a member of one of those professions, I stopped taking calls on weekend mornings and responding to emails at 11.00pm initially because I decided they weren't paying me enough to take or respond to them. then I concluded that someone taking email at 11.00pm, meaning taking time away from family to waste it on how the client is going to perjure himself next, has got priorities all screwed up.
office drones, salarymen and human batteries may differ.
Donny "The Bear Jew" Donowitz
Christopher Walken explained his work schedule to the SNL census taker:
Q. Are you currently employed?
A. Yeah, part of the time.
Q. You work part time. How many days a week?
A. Every day, but just part of the day, from 9 to 5.
Q. So you work a full day.
A. I wouldn’t say that. There are huge chunks of time at night where I’m just asleep. For hours, you know, it’s ridiculous.
I hit 50 before I learned that the only thing to stave off boredom, and consequent suicide by alcohol, was work.
But I don't call it work. I "putter about". Or is it "potter"? Whatever. I find doing a bit of business about as engaging as laying pavers in my heavily trafficked cottage gateways.
More importantly, time spent puttering about in boats (or on motorcycles, skis et al., I hope) is not subtracted from our God given life spans. I am currently building a floating dock. Does that count as a boat? I hope so.
God, of course, rides when he visits us. Possibly a Harley.