Dear Agnes,
I consider myself to be one of the lucky ones – I have a great job. The people, pay, schedule, the work I do… all fantastic. I don’t have any of the typical work woes to share like I hear from some of my friends and family (on a regular basis, and for hours at not-so-happy hours). For context, I work for a reputable recordkeeper in the industry, and last September, I was promoted to Implementations Service Manager. So, you might be wondering, “if everything is sunshine and roses, why am I writing to you?”. Well, here goes.
A few weeks ago, I returned home from our first family vacation. My husband and I carefully planned and saved up for nearly two years to bring our two young daughters to a beautiful destination. I brought my work laptop with me to check and forward emails during my downtime. I did not (I repeat, did not) intend on working-working.
However, an urgent matter at the office prompted my co-worker to contact me for help. She first emailed me, and when she didn’t get a response within an hour; she proceeded to text and call me. Seven missed texts and five missed calls by the time I got to my phone that I had purposely left in my hotel room.
Long story short, my coworker and I ended up talking, and, well, I ended up working. I didn’t want to leave her hanging, and I knew she would be there for me if the situation were reversed. Unfortunately, because of the nature of the matter and the work involved, it took hours and I missed out on memorable moments with my family, including an excursion to the local cave that my girls were looking forward to. They went with my husband but they were clearly upset I couldn’t join them – and truth be told, I was equally disappointed.
Now that I’m back home, I’m overwhelmed with guilt for allowing work to interfere with our first trip together. I’m also grappling with feelings of resentment towards my coworkers and my job in general.
I’m thinking about sending an email to all my coworkers to make it crystal clear not to bother me while I’m on vacation in the future. However, I don’t want my coworker, the one that reached out to me, to feel slighted because it wasn’t necessarily her fault.
Do you think such an email would do the trick? I want to strike the right balance between setting boundaries and not hurting anyone’s feelings.
Sincerely,
Regretful Workcationer
Dear Regretful Workcationer,
Let me first say, congratulations on finding your way to a great job! The gratitude you express for your working situation is palpable, and if I could make any comment on that, it would be to suggest you fully honor your own part in creating such a generally happy work situation for yourself. Brava!
To the substance of your letter, resentment is an incredibly useful and highly underrated emotion; it tells us more clearly than any other feeling that we need to tighten up our boundaries. So when we feel it, it’s helpful to track all the way back to see exactly how a boundary failure happened. As I read your letter, I noticed that while you intended not to do any “work work” on your vacation, you did bring your work laptop along with you, which I’m guessing is what enabled you to do all those hours of work you now regret. I would also gently point out that checking and forwarding emails is in and of itself work. I think it’s worth examining what prompted you to take your laptop with you in the first place. Are you that indispensable? Do you worry that since you’re fairly new in the position, you must be available at all times? Did you not include someone people could contact in your out of office responder in case of an urgent situation? Are you afraid to delegate?
As a psychologist, I’ve occasionally had clients write me desperately distressed emails while I’m on holidays. I’ve learned to list crisis resources in my out of office reply, and to refrain from responding until I’m back at work. But I must admit, Regretful Workcationer, there was a time when I would respond. To stop doing this, I had to work with the part of me that was afraid that leaving others hanging would mean I’d be judged and found wanting, either by myself or by them. My guilt and my over-responsibility for others would get me every single time. Ultimately, I realized my responsiveness to others above and beyond the call of duty was coming not entirely from a place of caring, but also from a desire to control the uncontrollable, namely, how others think of me! And while my intentions may have been to be helpful, what kind of message did it really send when I responded to a client’s crisis when “out of office”, and when outside of our contractual agreement? I inadvertently sent a “you need me, you can’t handle this on your own” message, that’s what I sent. I’m not proud of that.
In your case RW, it also seems that in trying to avoid feeling guilt in one relationship, you found yourself overwhelmed with guilt in other relationships. This is often the case with feelings we want to avoid: the more we try to manage circumstances so as not to feel them, the more we somehow end up amplifying them. I’m not quite sure how this works to be honest, but I’ve seen it time and time again, and have come to think of it as nature’s way of nudging us to grow. You did have the option to say no to your coworker’s request. What stopped you? What were you afraid would happen if you said no (or perhaps later). When faced with an urgent request, it’s wise (and especially so for those of us who tend to default to helping others) to buy a little time to consider both these questions and our own boundaries, rather than jumping in with an autopilot “Of course I’ll help”. It’s been my experience that a well-timed “Let me think about this for a bit and get back to you” can mean the difference between boundary integrity or complete boundary failure.
Regarding your proposed email, RW, it seems to me that telling your coworkers not to bother you on vacation would in effect be an attempt to give them responsibility for holding your boundary. A boundary is only a boundary if it’s within our own power to uphold. It will be far more empowering to everybody involved to shore up your capacity to decline requests for your time that you’re not prepared to entertain. Some of this may be practical, in terms of contingency planning, notifying others you won’t be available, and fully unplugging (which may involve walling off your work and personal phone numbers), but much of it I think will involve some inner work.
In loving support,
Agnes