Vacations and the new normal

Why Vacations Are No Longer Vacations

Simply work days at the beach

When my father went on vacation. He went on vacation.

Sounds like I’m stating the obvious. But wait, I haven’t finished yet.

When our family went on vacation in the summer, my father left his work behind. When he shut his office door, he would be incommunicado for two long weeks.

Fast-forward forty years, and within five hours of my boss leaving for Spain on holiday, I get a call.

‘Phil, how’s it going….?’

‘I thought you were on vacation.’

‘I am, I just remembered something…’

That ‘something’ was something that could have waited, well, forever, but he felt the need to tell me now. If I was his wife, I’d file for divorce straight away.

In my father’s era, if my mother had heard him once mention work while they were tucking into their paella, she’d have taken off with the good-looking Spaniard on the next table, and to hell with him.

Forty years ago, calling the UK from abroad wasn’t easy. It was expensive, time-consuming, and furthermore — and this is the important point — there was no reason to do it.

My father had good managers whom he trusted, and who he knew could do the job while he wasn’t there. He didn’t need to check in and micromanage everyone. If there was a problem, they’d sort it — that’s what they were paid for.

These days, that trust has gone. Managers feel the need to stick their beaks in from afar, simply because their jumped-up egos feel the business can’t run without them. When in reality, it probably runs better.

My father was a company director of a well-known textile firm in the north of England. He employed over 400 people, and with the competition from the Far East growing ever more fierce, he was always fighting to keep the business alive. Yet during those two weeks on holiday, his responsibility to his family was absolute.

True, there was the occasional call to his office from some dusty pay booth in Alicante or Valletta. But this was rare, and for most of the time, I doubt he ever thought of work. Unlike my boss, and many bosses all over the world.

Maybe this is the new normal. The once solid lines that separated work and play are now shimmering mirages on the sand. Quite literally.

Once upon a time, lying on the beach was an absolute guarantee no one would disturb you. One could while away hours smoking strong Spanish cigarettes or reading a dog-eared thriller you found in the hotel lobby. Now that’s not an option; you know your boss could phone up at any time.

You could turn your phone off. But who does that these days, especially when your boss has already warned you:

‘Have a good vacation, Phil. But keep your phone on, just in case.’

Talk about killing the holiday before it’s begun! Now, for the next two weeks, whether I’m on the beach, trekking up mountains, getting drunk in a bar, dancing on tables, or even fast asleep, I’m on call. And it sucks!

Thanks for reading this holiday piece. For more drama!