Here comes the weekend

Back when I was working in the real world--as in outside of academe--large employers were beginning to experiment with staggered work hours in order to test whether that helped their employees with decreased commute times.  If it worked well, then the employees will be more productive, and the staggered hours will also address the congestion issues in the metropolitan area, was the logic.

It can work only if the tasks are such that people do not have to be working at the same time.  However, this is rare--almost always, we seem to need others also to work at the hours when we work, if we want to get the job done.  Which is why with exceptions, offices seem to have similar working hours even now, despite all the technological advancements since those days when I was nothing but a low-paid intern.

If there is a synchronicity that is needed for work time, then how about for free time?

“If I could just get a few more hours off work each week,” you might think, “I would be happier.”

Think about that.  What if you have free time, but your friends and family are at work?  What if you are not a hermit, and you need people's company during your down time?

it’s not just that we have a shortage of free time; it’s also that our free time, in order to be satisfying, often must align with that of our friends and loved ones. We face a problem, in other words, of coordination. Work-life balance is not something that you can solve on your own.

Makes sense, doesn't it?  Suppose you are off work.  The people you like to hang out with are all at work.  You don't even have sports to watch on TV because all those mindless games seem to be scheduled only Friday through Sunday.  This is what happens to the unemployed folks, too:

the jobless showed almost exactly the same day-to-day pattern in emotional well-being as working people did. Their positive emotions soared on the weekend, and dropped back down again on Monday.

Interesting, right?  We sink, or sail, together, it seems:

While the jobless have “free time” during the week, their friends and family still have to go to work. The weekend is when the jobless fall back into sync with society.
The weekend, then, is not just a respite from work, but also gives similar relief from unemployment. It is a time when people can get what they’ve been missing: time together.
This conclusion points to a key feature of the work-life problem: You cannot get more “weekend” simply by taking an extra day off work yourself. If we were to take more time off as individuals, we would be likely to spend that time, as the jobless do, waiting for other people to finish work. We are stuck “at work,” in a sense, by the work schedules of our family and friends.

We humans are complicated ;)

Does it matter what day of the week it is?

A checkout counter with a young woman where nobody was waiting, or the counter with a middle-aged woman who was in the final stages of ringing up a customer.  That was the biggest decision I had to make at the grocery store the other day.

If you thought that as a middle-aged single guy I would have opted for the open lane, correct you are not!

The age of the cashier, or to zip through without waiting, are less exciting to me compared to the welcoming smile and sincere small-talk that I can expect with some.

Thus, I waited.  She gave me a "hello" smile as she bagged the groceries of the couple that was ahead of me.

"You enjoying the weekend?" she asked as I moved up.

"Yes, I enjoy the weekend, and the weekdays too" I replied.

I was not bullshitting there.  Way back, before I returned to academia, yes, there was a distinct difference between my mental state on weekdays and that on the weekends.  I hated that job, and I dreaded Mondays and welcomed Fridays.

That has never been my story as an academic though.

Now, the only difference is whether or not I drive to campus.  I look forward to meeting with students the days that I drive to campus.  When I don't drive to campus, I continue to do my academic job of thinking.  I love to do this thinking!  Thus, weekends do not matter much.

"That's good" she said. "You are an educator, right?" I was reminded of her usage of "educator" once before.

I nodded yes.

"Of math. No, science."

This is an existential moment that geographers face.  If we say we teach geography, people then want to share with us the incorrect view of the discipline that most people all over the world seem to have--that it is about factoids, and cultural aspects in different parts of the world.  So, over the years, I have crafted a response in which I conveniently omit the second half of the my academic interests of economic geography.

"Economics" I replied with a smile.  Hey, it is not as if I had sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  This response was a partial truth!

I decided that it was the best time to ask her a question that had always bugged me.  "The way you stand, I have always wondered whether you spent quite some time as a dancer ..."

"Not dancer. Body building."

That I would not have guessed.  She is far from having rippling muscles.  Yes, she is fit no doubt.

Perhaps she read my mind.  "I used to.  Not anymore.  Years ago, I was so much into it, people used to wonder whether I was really a woman" and she smiled.

"That explains your posture."

"I suppose" and she continued with "back in San Diego, I used to scare men who wanted to date me by flexing my muscles."

There were people behind me and I felt it would be rude if I continued this topic with her.  But, it was too tempting.  I picked up my bag and asked her "you said San Diego?"

"Yes."

"My port of entry was Los Angeles and I spent a number of years in Southern California" I said as I waved a bye to her. I know I will have more questions for her the next time.

The older we become, the more stories like these we have to trade. Youth has its advantages, yes, but experience is not one of them.  A few years later, I will catch up with the young woman I bypassed, and I bet she'll have some epic tales for me ;)