I used to work with a woman who came to work always super unwound. She was relaxed and ready. She was calm and collected. She didn’t seem to have a care in the world. She’d stroll in the office at her leisure, but always on time, and sit down coiled for work little a rattlesnake. However, unlike the rattler, she was pleasant and polite and energetic and entertaining.
I asked her one morning to explain why she was so at ease. How had she cracked the code and figured out how to shun the world of the woes it forced upon the average worker? She uttered the words that ring loud in my head today, “I treat every day like the weekend.” What? Was she crazy? Had she stumbled upon some mysterious puddle of water as powerful as the fountain of youth and drank it all?
I probed further, “So like every day is Friday?” “Sort of,” she calmly spoke. She looked a little like Heather Locklear, but that could be the weekend talking. Her voice was soft but the words she spoke were loud with power. I continued, “Sort of, what?” She explained that every morning she woke up and pretended it was Saturday morning. She went back to sleep without the alarm, when she got up she read the paper and made breakfast, she forgot all her responsibility and problems completely. Then, eventually but right on time, she made her way to work like heading to the market. All day long, she acted like it was the weekend – nothing too serious, nothing but smiles.
I decided then, probably 15 years ago, that I was going to think of every day as if it were the weekend. Each night I come home like it’s Friday, “What are we doing tonight?” There’s no waiting for the weekend, the weekend is rolled up in the week. It’s Monday, let’s have steaks and grill out. It’s Tuesday, open some wine and let’s invite some folks over. It’s Wednesday, let’s watch a movie.
I went to dinner with a guy after the Pacers game last week. It was a Tuesday night and very late. I shared my Friday night theory with him. He asked, “If you were making a weekday a weekend, why would you pick Friday and not Saturday?” He’s right! Even now, I’m still open to learning new things. Every night is Saturday night, why not?