Workaholism is so ‘80s.
It’s just not cool anymore to kill oneself working, if it ever really was.
When I was coming up with the suit-and-tie crowd, being a workaholic was stylish, and killing oneself in the name of the company was expected. And 20-somethings have a lot of midnight oil to spare.
Over the last few decades, I’ve successfully burned myself out, twice.
With the wisdom of hindsight, I now heartily agree with Jason Fried in Rework:
Workaholics aren’t heroes. They don’t save the day, they just use it up. The real hero is already home because she figured out a faster way to get things done.
I invite you consider this context as I relate the following true tale.
When Recovering Workaholics Get Together
So there I was sitting in one of my mastermind groups, chatting about stuff I was comfortable with, when one of the members suddenly brings up a really uncomfortable topic.
She coaches her clients to become more productive by giving themselves periodic “rewards” during the day, and breaks from work to recharge their batteries.
The group quickly chimed in with all the small ways they reward themselves.
Then she turned to me.
“Keith, how do you give yourself a little productivity incentive for moving through tasks quickly? What recharges you?”
I sat there, mental wheels spinning.
I was drawing a blank.
I could literally think of nothing that I would call a “reward.”
I couldn’t think of the last time I “recharged.”
I started to wonder: Am I on my way to another burnout?
It really doesn’t matter where I am, my brain is “working.”
Yet because I enjoy more and more of what I do for a living, sometimes work can be pretty great.
Fun, even.
People tell me only “non-work” can recharge you, that you can’t really be productive unless you play as hard as you work.
I know people who are literally “working for the weekend.” Work is a means to an end for them.
So here’s my question for you: Can work be its own reward?
I’m curious to hear what you think. Please share your thoughts in the comments.
Doing what you love is it’s own reward. Sometimes it doesn’t even feel like work you are enjoying it so much. Why call it work anyway? where did that word come from? Why do we consider doing something we love to be work? Isn’t “work” a word that is in the same catagory as “Job”? Both seem to be considered negative
by most people.
You make some great points, thanks! And of course, I agree about reframing the words “work” and “job.” You’re right when you say that both are getting lots of negative spin as more and more people believe they can “escape” work with magical “opportunities” that will somehow guarantee a carefree life on the beach. That’s our whole thing here; transforming the way people consider the role of work in their lives. That’s why one of our guiding principles here is: “It’s freedom of work, not freedom from work.”
Thanks again,
Keith
Keith,
As a fellow “recovering workaholic,” we talked about this a lot when you were coaching me. And I’ve made a lot of progress 🙂
I remember you telling me that one of the most rewarding things for you was hearing about the breakthroughs of your clients — and we had more a few breakthroughs, as I recall!
I can imagine that there are few “rewards” better than that? (Well, other than getting paid for coaching . . .)
Keep it rockin’ n rollin’,
Craig
Hey Craig,
You are right on, there. Thanks for the reminder.
The other day in the forums, we were talking about “passion,” and where it comes from (which comes first, the passion or the work?)
Yes, my passion is working with people and participating in their “ah-has,” breakthroughs, and successes. That’s where the juice is. That just ain’t work. It really does recharge me, and even though I get paid for coaching, I’d have to seek another paycheck if there weren’t that kind of interaction.
And you know that I wish the same kind of work for you, Craig.
Thanks for adding the conversation as always!
Keith
Hello Keith,
I work long hours, but I wouldn’t label myself a workaholic. This is something you Americans coined, I believe, and it strikes me as silly. I would agree with CM, who wrote that “it doesn’t feel like work if you are enjoying it so much.”
As a therapist, I have seen clients who work too much, my only questions for them:
— Do you enjoy what you do?
— Are other parts of your life being short-changed?
I only want to know that they aren’t “using” work as an escape from life, or a way to cut themselves off from joy.
I can also second what Craig writes. I love being a therapist for that very reason: my reward are the clients who take the initiative to change their lives. All the hard work and long hours of “work” evaporate during that moment I’m sitting with a client who has experienced a breakthrough!
I enjoy it so much, that is why I am here: I want to leverage my joy!
Thank you again for a thought-provoking piece.
Iala!
Hi Iala,
What a great way to frame our task here at TN: “Leveraging our joy!” Thanks for that, I love it.
That is what it’s all about, isn’t it? Leverage our successes, the best parts of what we do and enjoy. This is, I believe, what my new age friends would call “an abundant life,” maybe?
Thanks for your insight, Iala.
Keith
You can have it, Keith, I haven’t trademarked it – yet 🙂
Keith,
I’ve always been much too selfish with my time to be much of a “workaholic.” 🙂
Yet, as I approach “retirement” age, I’ve been thinking more and more about the topics you bring up on this site (which I why I enjoy your posts on work – keep ’em coming!)
Here’s what really interests me now: I’ve always had work that I enjoyed, but never defined me. I thought the people who were defined by their work were unwell in some way ;-), or at the very least, needed some intervention. This is changing as I ease into that place where I need to think about securing my future beyond the savings I have. And when I think about *that* work, suddenly, everything I think about is very personal, work can be very personal, after all! I haven’t tried this in practice yet, but I get now what you’re saying in this piece (which would have eluded me a year ago) – for you, work and life are inseparable, intertwined. Maybe you can’t enjoy life unless you first enjoy your “work?” Am I close? If so, Iala is correct: the workaholic label is silly.
Which leads me to the “Drive” book you quoted in one of your articles. I picked that up on a flight (for work) and he offers a real mind-shift.
You are giving me a great deal to think about when it comes to life and life’s work. I’m not yet to the place where I could call *anything* I do “art” (as you eluded to in the article on artists and entrepreneurs).. but who knows?
Thanks, Keith
Mark
Mark,
Thanks for this insight.
Funny how we view the other side of the work fence. You mention how you used to view those of us for whom work and life are intertwined. By the same token, when I was coming up as a green entrepreneur, I viewed the “poor souls” who worked for the weekend and had zero interest in the work they did as lost souls who required my gentle guidance to the enlightened side of the fence. . .
Thankfully, I’ve grown up a bit, and while I may still have the same motivation, I’m not attempting to bring any horses to this water who aren’t already thirsty…. (Alert the metaphor police . . .)
Happy you enjoyed Drive! And now that you’ve joined the tribe, I look forward to the day you call your work, “art.” (Maybe Godin’s Linchpin is next?)
Thanks!
Keith
OK, I’ll bite. I have yet to acquire a taste for Mr. Godin (never had much interest in marketing titles), but he seems to be the most-quoted author on this site 😉 – so Linchpin is next on my list. I’ll weigh in when I’m finished…
Mark
Mark, you’re on to me – yes, it is true, I do like the Godin.
I have so many posts I’ve started that were inspired by some golden Godin nugget of wisdom, I could start a new blog with those alone . . .
But I try to space them on here — just so you know I do read other people 🙂
Keith this is a very profound question because it asks a bigger question …what is your purpose on earth and how will one reflect their life the day before you die. Getting deep here but really it’s about purpose and I believe one must generate their own incentive and always reward themselves with respect that the reward comes in all forms… An example is me being fortunate to know you… And that was because of working hardand as you know it didn’t end up as I desired yet I was rewarded in many ways.. Eventually one figures out that rewards should be surprises in life and if they are manufactured for a selfseving expectation they seem to be less valuable
I recall my very first career job was with a company where the owner sat in his office and some how knew everyone … This was a nationwide company with hundreds of employees
One day I get called to his office (yikes it was like going to the school principal’s office. He asked me my opinion and congratulated me on contributing to the company … As a token of his appreciate of my efforts he opens a drawer and pulls out a silver dollar and hands to be
40+ years later I hold that memory as the beginnings of my career in sales Was it the money… Hardly… If was knowing that I contributed some how and got recognized for that
So hardwork it not a reward… It the surprises and silver dollars that acknowledge your work efforts
Hi Wayne,
You’re right, this is a profound question, thanks for stepping up and sharing your thoughts so eloquently.
Yes, it’s all about purpose, and as you say, “one must generate their own incentive,” and “eventually one figures out rewards should be surprises.” Very, well said.
I love your silver dollar story, a great metaphor for our discussion. Whether you still have that original silver dollar or not, the memory itself is priceless.
Thanks again, Wayne.
So great to hear from you!
Keith
I think work can be its own reward, yes. But I also know from hard experience that creatives need to take breaks, or pretty soon we’re so focused on one or two things that we fail to make connections that would help our work break the mold, or the rut. And then our works becomes more work, and less fun, as we feel ourselves slipping.
I do several things to help this. I can take a break with my kids, throwing everyone in the car and going to the park or a museum. Sometimes I’ll take a longish drive, or an unusual route on a routine errand. Once in awhile, I’ll take my family to a weekend festival.
Sometimes, I make a cup of Indian tea (I like chai and flavorful herbal teas) or a latte, and use StumbleUpon to find new blogs and websites. That’s another thing that helps me refresh my mind.
Finally, I try to get together with friends regularly. I have a group of friends that dates back to our college days. We are comfortable enough together that we can just hang, gabbing, playing games, grilling in the summer or ordering delivery in the winter. Or we might try out a new ethnic restaurant together. Or go to one of the arts districts. We tend to either like to just hang out, not having to impress anyone, or we go for a new and different experience. All of these people are now various sorts of professionals, from a judge and the head of a large ISP to a photographer/professor, an artist, a pastor, a geologist, a brewmaster of a brewpub, a web developer (me) and three writers. And you can sometimes find us playing tag in the dark with glowsticks. Some of our kids are highly embarrassed, but others join in the fun.
All of these things give me new experiences upon which to draw, and break my mind out of the mode it was in.
Hi Tracey,
Thanks for stopping by and making such a convincing case for recovery.
For me, this is very convincing part of your argument: “And then our works becomes more work, and less fun, as we feel ourselves slipping.”
Yep!
I was hoping a reader (far wiser than I) would make a compelling case for the other side of this question. I started to paint the “other side” in this post, but quickly realized I’d be a complete and total fraud if I even tried 😉 – so I left it to you — and you did a mighty fine job.
Of course I “logically” know I need to take breaks to recharge, and I suppose in my way, I do take some breaks, more than I’m aware, maybe…
Funny thing is, when I used to do corporate coaching, every time we’d assess a highly-strung workaholic C-level exec, I’d immediately steer them to Jim Loehr’s books about the critical importance of cycles of stress and recovery – for athletes and for the rest of us. I guess it’s true what they say: sometimes you coach what you most need to learn yourself? 😉
Appreciate it,
Thanks
Keith
This is a topic near and dear to my heart. I just wrote a 3 part post series on burnout. It took about a decade of recovery to write about it.
However, having experienced burnout, I do believe work can be it’s own reward. You love your work Keith. I can’t imagine you going a whole week on vacation and not utter a single marketing or business idea.
In addition to doing work you love and having the flexibility of being your own boss, I think there is one other criteria.
You have to always remember what you do is a choice – no one can force us to work, even if we work for someone else. In the end I realized this and made the difficult decision to do work I love on my own terms.
If I had realized it sooner I may have saved myself from burnout. I always loved the work I did. I just forgot I had a choice.
Sue,
You have a way of cutting to the chase with just the perfect words: “I always loved the work I did. I just forgot I had a choice.” Very nice.
Thanks for providing a link to your burnout series, I went on over and read it, really excellent.
In one of your articles, you point out: “So, after about 10 years of straight 60-70 hour work weeks, simultaneously earning an MBA and giving birth to three children (two of which are twins), my battery ran out.”
Sheesh, now I feel like a freakin’ wimp burning out with just the 60-70 hour work weeks, to that you added an MBA and three kids!!! That you could recover as well as you have is a testament to your methods, I will have to pay closer attention!
All these thoughtful comments have inspired another burnout article of my own – and I might just have to link to a few of the finer points you make.
Thanks for weighing in, as always.
I appreciate it.
Keith