Spending your time at the office is well and good but there must be a point when you ask yourself what you're doing it for
According to the weekend papers, we are a nation falling to its knees with tiredness. The reports were of a study conducted by UCD in which, it appears, Irish people are three times as likely to go to their doctor complaining of exhaustion than British residents.
I've written about the whole tiredness thing before but it's an interesting topic and, from my own experiences, it's not surprising that the most important thing in many people's lives is a good night's sleep.
When I first started work, I put in a standard 35-hour week. Ten years later it was a 50-hour week, sometimes more. At least my extra time was spent in front of my computer screen - if I'd had to add another couple either side of my working day for commuting, I'm sure that I would've been sitting in the doctor's surgery complaining of tiredness too. As it was, I used to be wiped out by the weekend, perking up on Sunday evening only to know that it would all start again the next morning.
A friend of mine recently started in a new job. The working day was to start at 8 a.m. and ended whenever everything that needed to be done was done. She arrived into the office at 7.55 a.m. on the first morning, newspaper folded under her arm, only to discover that she was the last in the door.
The next morning she arrived at a quarter to eight. Still last. And at half-seven? Still last! Most of her colleagues were at their desks between 7 a.m. and a quarter past. Not only that but most of them had already read the newspapers at home.
So far, she hasn't managed to get home before seven any evening.
She's in a senior position. She wasn't expecting to finish much earlier anyway, but the morning start is killing her! The thing that makes her grit her teeth, though, is that nobody is getting much done at seven in the morning.
They're reading through a certain amount of research but they're meant to be doing that during the normal working day. The clients they deal with may well be in their own offices but they too are reading research (or maybe the papers) and don't want to take calls.
Most of it is really people being in the office early because they think it looks good.
In one of the companies where I worked there was a tradition of staying very late in the evenings. Not because anything got done (the European markets were closed and our dealings in the US were minimal) but because it was good for your career to be seen to be at your desk.
It seemed to me that, no matter how long I stayed, there was always someone who stayed later - until I discovered that many of my colleagues actually kept a spare jacket that they left over the back of their seat while leaving the computer switched on and an open research document on the desk, thus giving the appearance of burning the midnight oil while they'd actually disappeared home!
Actually people were always talking about wanting to go home early but they were reluctant to do so.
Being seen around the office at all sorts of crazy hours was good for your career. It marked you out as someone who cared about the company, cared about its success and someone who was on track to share in that success. So what if you were too bloody tired to be able to spot a good trading opportunity the next day?
I was asked in an interview some time ago whether or not I thought that wealth was a measure of success. It's difficult to say no because in our society we have made it the biggest measure of success there is. How often do you turn to the business pages - or even the main part of the newspaper - and see a person lauded for their net worth?
A few years ago every second story was about the fabulous wealth created by a 20-something dotcommer and how they were changing the face of commerce forever. These people were successes. But what was their legacy?
Sure, some of them have money. Lots of it. But for most of them, their businesses don't exist anymore and many of those who worked in the companies for long, long hours are now working in other companies for long, long hours and dreaming of being able to buy somewhere within an hour's travelling distance of the city.
I love the buzz of commerce. I love the concept of having an idea, of creating the environment for it to flourish, of getting your product onto the shelves, of making money. But there has to be a point when you ask yourself what you're doing it for and whether or not you're actually enjoying it. And at different points in your life different aspects of business become more important to you.
There was a time, certainly, in my 20s that my life revolved around the working environment. All the interesting things happened there, the opportunities were there, my friends were there. So being there early and staying late wasn't a hardship, it was fun. But after a while that changes; other things in your life become important, only you're caught up in an unforgiving work cycle and if you step outside it you're corporate toast.
There are many, many business people whose lives still revolve around going for the one big deal and, when they land it, going for something even bigger. But those people really are the exception rather than the rule.
Lots of extremely successful people I know would really rather be doing something less dramatic these days but they don't know how.
They're like the US businessman talking to the fisherman who is emptying the catch from his boat. The businessman is amazed at the quantity of the fish that the fisherman has brought back. He asks the fisherman why he doesn't borrow the money to get a bigger boat if there's so much fish in the sea. The fisherman replies: why? With a bigger boat, the businessman explains, you can catch more fish and eventually buy an even bigger boat. Then you can employ a crew and catch even more fish. Eventually, you will be so rich that you can retire from business and do whatever you like.
The fisherman looks at the enthusiastic businessman, shakes his head and tells him that what he likes to do is to take out a small boat and fish.
