I'm not sure why it took me this long. Here we are, August 21, and summer is almost over. The cooler mornings have me thinking toward Fall and also wondering where the time went? Yesterday, I resolved to spending at least a half hour of my lunch break outside, reading, in the park. Soaking in the warmth and sunlight as much as I can and giving myself a much needed break from my computer. My thought is that ultimately, the time spent away from my desk will actually make me more productive. The importance of mental rest should not be underestimated, which - I'd bet - is part of the reason lunch breaks were invented in the first place (along with the need to nourish the body, of course!).
When I first started work, I promised myself two things - 1) I would make sure I used every vacation day allotted to me and 2) I would always take my lunch break. Seven years later, I've failed repeatedly on both accounts. And it hasn't been at all on my own accord.
When did life get so hectic? And when did employers decide to try to cram 10+ hours of work into 8? Or 7 work days into 5? (And I know that my attorney, doctor, and financial advisor friends scoff at the "minimal" hours that I work compared to their jobs.) If I only worked the 7.5 hours/day that I get paid and actually took every vacation day I'm owed (a whopping 36! which I've accrued based on good performance, promotions and time with the organization), I'm not sure how I would ever get anything done. I'm fairly organized, but not even the most organized could produce this amount of work - of high quality - in that amount of time. You'd have to be superhuman (or the woman on Bewitched).
There's something to be said about the European work environment. August off, flexible work hours... so what if we are a richer country? I bet they live longer.
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Las Vegas, Part 1: All the World's a Line
Last night I returned from a four day getaway with “the girls” to Las Vegas. The City of Lights, Sin City, the LV; whatever you want to call it, it was big, it was bright and it was unforgettable. Over the next few days, I’ll be posting a series of posts on my experience there formatted around roughly based themes that surfaced over and over again during the long weekend.
Today’s discussion: Las Vegas, Part 1: All the World’s a Line
Somewhere around 11am, I arrived at Dulles airport after driving the very boring 16 mile stretch of the Dulles Access Road that’s not quite 495 and not quite the toll road and I was immediately presented with a dilemma: Daily Parking 1 or Daily Parking 2. My quick intuition led to me to choose Daily Parking 2 because it looks much closer to the terminals and I vaguely remembered parking there before. I love the electronic sign upon entering that tells you in little green numbers exactly how many spots are available on each level. Level 1: 3; Level 2: 195, Level 3: 65 etc. Level 2 it is. Duh! I drive up and immediately find a spot that looks good. It takes me a good few minutes to hoist my ridiculously large suitcase out of the trunk, narrowly missing all ten of my toes as it crashes to the ground only to soon find out that the access to the pedestrian walkway is only accessible from level 3. Of course. I contemplate moving my car to one of the 60-some spots on Level 3 but that would require maneuvering my suitcase again, so I opt to take the elevator up a level instead. When I exit the parking lot I see another very humorous sign. It says something like "Next time you fly, consider Daily Parking 1 with its state of the art, new and improved, covered and air conditioned moving sidewalks that will make your life so much easier than Daily Parking 2. We'll even pass out fruity umbrella drinks as you glide on by in style." Ok, so that's not exactly verbatim, but you get the idea. (And it is not a line story, but it sets the stage...)
I had an easy check-in at Southwest and fortunately my friend clued me in to this 24-hours in advance online check-in thing so you can get into the first group of seating. I wasn't lucky enough to get A since I checked in 21 hours in advance, but I felt my B status was not so shabby. It was here that I encountered my first line of the vacation. Have you ever flown Southwest before? Talk about perpetuating the class system! Sitting on the floor in the B line, over one hour before the scheduled take-off of my flight, I held such envy for those in the A line and such panic that I was going to get a bad seat and have to endure the pointing, laughter and snickering from my fellow window and aisle seat neighbors ("She must have been in the B line... ha ha ha. Loser."). [line 1] Well joke on everyone. For some reason everyone before me passed up a second row aisle seat which I promptly snagged. Unfortunately, a C line woman took the middle seat next to me and proceeded to cough and pop pill after pill of prescription medication the entire flight. I was mentally reviewing my CPR skills should she pass out from an overdose.
We arrive in Vegas, I rush off the plane to baggage claim up and down a few escalators where presumably most of the riders are from the DC area and STILL do not stay to the right. Ugh. I grab my bag off the carousel and head for a taxi. The taxi line at McCarren International awaits. It must be about 150 people deep, although props to the attendants, they have this worked out. From the main taxi line, and as you approach the front, you are directed to one of 9 smaller lines where the taxis pull up to pick up the passengers. [lines 2 and 3]
Finally reunited with my friends from college we talked about all of the activities we had planned for the weekend - some fine dining, a show, a bit of sun and gambling, and at least one of the trendy nightspots. At this point we hadn't realized how beneficial our female status would prove to be over the next few days. More on this later but for now, I'll speak of how it affected our experience with the many lines we encountered in Las Vegas.
Being a female visitor to Las Vegas gets you many privileges. For some, like us, it got us line passes, VIP passes, and guest list status, presumably limiting the time you have to stand in lines for entry into the various clubs. For others, it probably gets you an STD or two, but either way you come back with a special memory. Props to Terry who totally got us the hook-up at Body English, Tao and Rehab. He knows people and we were glad to know him. What we didn't realize, until our first Las Vegas club experience, is that knowing Terry and getting line passes and VIP passes etc., is that it just allows you wait in a different line than the rest of the masses. True it was typically shorter and moved faster, but it was a line nevertheless. Often though, you started in one line and then were shuffled to another and yet another before your actual entry into the esteemed and at that point quite mysterious Las Vegas club scene. And then, who were those people who could just cut the line and why were they so important? Probably because they spent thousands on a table or cabana or whatever other exclusive and private corner of the club they could afford. (More on that later, too.)
And every line we waited in had its own characteristic. Some lines were long (taxi line outside of Caesars after a night at Tao), some lines were entered through parking lots (Rehab VIP/Cabana line at Hard Rock), some lines had misters that would keep us cool, but mess up our hair before a night out (Mandalay taxi line), and others promised Furkinis - yes, a bikini made of fake fur (a Body English promotion at Hard Rock and apparently a coveted promotion judging by the line of ladies giddy with anticipation).
At last count, somewhere around Monday morning, we recalled at least 24 lines that we waited in. At an average of say 4 minutes a line, we stood in lines for over an hour of our vacation.
Perhaps they should rename Las Vegas and call it Disney World instead.
Today’s discussion: Las Vegas, Part 1: All the World’s a Line
Somewhere around 11am, I arrived at Dulles airport after driving the very boring 16 mile stretch of the Dulles Access Road that’s not quite 495 and not quite the toll road and I was immediately presented with a dilemma: Daily Parking 1 or Daily Parking 2. My quick intuition led to me to choose Daily Parking 2 because it looks much closer to the terminals and I vaguely remembered parking there before. I love the electronic sign upon entering that tells you in little green numbers exactly how many spots are available on each level. Level 1: 3; Level 2: 195, Level 3: 65 etc. Level 2 it is. Duh! I drive up and immediately find a spot that looks good. It takes me a good few minutes to hoist my ridiculously large suitcase out of the trunk, narrowly missing all ten of my toes as it crashes to the ground only to soon find out that the access to the pedestrian walkway is only accessible from level 3. Of course. I contemplate moving my car to one of the 60-some spots on Level 3 but that would require maneuvering my suitcase again, so I opt to take the elevator up a level instead. When I exit the parking lot I see another very humorous sign. It says something like "Next time you fly, consider Daily Parking 1 with its state of the art, new and improved, covered and air conditioned moving sidewalks that will make your life so much easier than Daily Parking 2. We'll even pass out fruity umbrella drinks as you glide on by in style." Ok, so that's not exactly verbatim, but you get the idea. (And it is not a line story, but it sets the stage...)
I had an easy check-in at Southwest and fortunately my friend clued me in to this 24-hours in advance online check-in thing so you can get into the first group of seating. I wasn't lucky enough to get A since I checked in 21 hours in advance, but I felt my B status was not so shabby. It was here that I encountered my first line of the vacation. Have you ever flown Southwest before? Talk about perpetuating the class system! Sitting on the floor in the B line, over one hour before the scheduled take-off of my flight, I held such envy for those in the A line and such panic that I was going to get a bad seat and have to endure the pointing, laughter and snickering from my fellow window and aisle seat neighbors ("She must have been in the B line... ha ha ha. Loser."). [line 1] Well joke on everyone. For some reason everyone before me passed up a second row aisle seat which I promptly snagged. Unfortunately, a C line woman took the middle seat next to me and proceeded to cough and pop pill after pill of prescription medication the entire flight. I was mentally reviewing my CPR skills should she pass out from an overdose.
We arrive in Vegas, I rush off the plane to baggage claim up and down a few escalators where presumably most of the riders are from the DC area and STILL do not stay to the right. Ugh. I grab my bag off the carousel and head for a taxi. The taxi line at McCarren International awaits. It must be about 150 people deep, although props to the attendants, they have this worked out. From the main taxi line, and as you approach the front, you are directed to one of 9 smaller lines where the taxis pull up to pick up the passengers. [lines 2 and 3]
Finally reunited with my friends from college we talked about all of the activities we had planned for the weekend - some fine dining, a show, a bit of sun and gambling, and at least one of the trendy nightspots. At this point we hadn't realized how beneficial our female status would prove to be over the next few days. More on this later but for now, I'll speak of how it affected our experience with the many lines we encountered in Las Vegas.
Being a female visitor to Las Vegas gets you many privileges. For some, like us, it got us line passes, VIP passes, and guest list status, presumably limiting the time you have to stand in lines for entry into the various clubs. For others, it probably gets you an STD or two, but either way you come back with a special memory. Props to Terry who totally got us the hook-up at Body English, Tao and Rehab. He knows people and we were glad to know him. What we didn't realize, until our first Las Vegas club experience, is that knowing Terry and getting line passes and VIP passes etc., is that it just allows you wait in a different line than the rest of the masses. True it was typically shorter and moved faster, but it was a line nevertheless. Often though, you started in one line and then were shuffled to another and yet another before your actual entry into the esteemed and at that point quite mysterious Las Vegas club scene. And then, who were those people who could just cut the line and why were they so important? Probably because they spent thousands on a table or cabana or whatever other exclusive and private corner of the club they could afford. (More on that later, too.)
And every line we waited in had its own characteristic. Some lines were long (taxi line outside of Caesars after a night at Tao), some lines were entered through parking lots (Rehab VIP/Cabana line at Hard Rock), some lines had misters that would keep us cool, but mess up our hair before a night out (Mandalay taxi line), and others promised Furkinis - yes, a bikini made of fake fur (a Body English promotion at Hard Rock and apparently a coveted promotion judging by the line of ladies giddy with anticipation).
At last count, somewhere around Monday morning, we recalled at least 24 lines that we waited in. At an average of say 4 minutes a line, we stood in lines for over an hour of our vacation.
Perhaps they should rename Las Vegas and call it Disney World instead.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
The Countdown Begins
My Gmail chat announces that I'm Vegas bound in a little less than 48 hours. With two of my very best girlfriends, sun, water, a bit of gambling, fine dining and Love it adds up to the perfect recipe to cure my blahs. I haven't taken a vacation, much less a day or two off since November, work is getting stagnant and morale here is low. I think this will be the just the pick-me-up that I need.
And, when it rains it pours... less than two weeks after my return, I head to my in-laws beach house for over a week. Like the rest of D.C., my hubby and I will be fleeing the confines of this city as the tourists come in to replace us - a veritable free-for-all. We'll spend a few days with his family and then they leave us on our own for a week. We plan to have a steady stream of friends coming and going, crashing on extra beds and couches (and maybe floors!). We'll eat lobster rolls, sunbathe, and probably partake in a competitive game or two of putt-putt. Just the crazy kind of relaxation that I need.
And come September, I should be as good as new.
And, when it rains it pours... less than two weeks after my return, I head to my in-laws beach house for over a week. Like the rest of D.C., my hubby and I will be fleeing the confines of this city as the tourists come in to replace us - a veritable free-for-all. We'll spend a few days with his family and then they leave us on our own for a week. We plan to have a steady stream of friends coming and going, crashing on extra beds and couches (and maybe floors!). We'll eat lobster rolls, sunbathe, and probably partake in a competitive game or two of putt-putt. Just the crazy kind of relaxation that I need.
And come September, I should be as good as new.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
A National Day Off
I thought I was on to something today. [note: please keep reading, but know that it is far from a perfect argument…] As I took a leisurely stroll during lunch, on what is truly a picture perfect day, I got to thinking how great it would be if we had a national day off – and as I've been informed, we do have Labor Day, but this would be different. And not like a holiday like Christmas or Thanksgiving, either. Just a random, regular day… maybe announced the week before and kind of like a “hey, United States, you’ve been working hard, you’ve had to endure a rough few years, we’re in a war we can’t win, morale is low – why don’t you take a day off to enjoy yourselves.”
The personal impact would be huge. Husbands and wives could spend some quality time with each other, kids could have a play day, you could finish that book, DVD, or home repair project you started ages ago. One-day personal fulfillment would be at an all time high. Talk about a mental health day. And Dubya, you may even score a few more points in those ratings of yours that seem to be just slip, slip, slip sliding away. (Not from me, mind you, but I’m sure someone in the country might give you a little boost.)
Of course, there is the economic impact to think of, and while an absurd amount of money would be lost on that one day, would it really be a big deal? The country would be up and running again in 24 hours. It would probably take a long time to recoup, but in the whole scheme of things, one day revenues are probably equivalent to a gas station’s 10th of a cent. And besides, there would be a spending “shift”: what isn’t purchased on the national day off, would most likely be purchased shortly before or after. In fact, now I’d hazard to say that there would be no noticeable blip on the economic radar. (But then again, what do I know?)
Of course, there would have to be some preparation involved, such as making sure you had food for the day because the grocery store vendors would also be enjoying their day off. There would be no retail capability that day, but with enough notice, I don’t think many people would mind. Think of the benefits. A chance to spend the day away from your desk, leave your computer behind and get some fresh air. A chance to spend the day with your kids, instead of catching up with them after daycare. A back to basics approach, where entertainment is found in the simplest of activities.
Now there are those “essential” employees to think about and I’d like to give them a break too. Here in D.C., about the only time we thank our lucky stars that we are “non-essential” is when a snow storm rolls through and we get to stay at home. What if emergency personnel, hospital workers, ambulance drivers etc. were also given the day off. Then we might have problems. I’d hate to have someone die or not receive the medical care they need just because I want a day to spend in the sun.
So, as you can see, there is still some more thought to be had to this argument, and many more flaws to it that I just don’t have the time to get into. I guess the bottom line is that everyone deserves a day off – on a perfectly sunny, 70 degree weather day - just because.
_________________________________
Expenses (on the road to saving something):
The personal impact would be huge. Husbands and wives could spend some quality time with each other, kids could have a play day, you could finish that book, DVD, or home repair project you started ages ago. One-day personal fulfillment would be at an all time high. Talk about a mental health day. And Dubya, you may even score a few more points in those ratings of yours that seem to be just slip, slip, slip sliding away. (Not from me, mind you, but I’m sure someone in the country might give you a little boost.)
Of course, there is the economic impact to think of, and while an absurd amount of money would be lost on that one day, would it really be a big deal? The country would be up and running again in 24 hours. It would probably take a long time to recoup, but in the whole scheme of things, one day revenues are probably equivalent to a gas station’s 10th of a cent. And besides, there would be a spending “shift”: what isn’t purchased on the national day off, would most likely be purchased shortly before or after. In fact, now I’d hazard to say that there would be no noticeable blip on the economic radar. (But then again, what do I know?)
Of course, there would have to be some preparation involved, such as making sure you had food for the day because the grocery store vendors would also be enjoying their day off. There would be no retail capability that day, but with enough notice, I don’t think many people would mind. Think of the benefits. A chance to spend the day away from your desk, leave your computer behind and get some fresh air. A chance to spend the day with your kids, instead of catching up with them after daycare. A back to basics approach, where entertainment is found in the simplest of activities.
Now there are those “essential” employees to think about and I’d like to give them a break too. Here in D.C., about the only time we thank our lucky stars that we are “non-essential” is when a snow storm rolls through and we get to stay at home. What if emergency personnel, hospital workers, ambulance drivers etc. were also given the day off. Then we might have problems. I’d hate to have someone die or not receive the medical care they need just because I want a day to spend in the sun.
So, as you can see, there is still some more thought to be had to this argument, and many more flaws to it that I just don’t have the time to get into. I guess the bottom line is that everyone deserves a day off – on a perfectly sunny, 70 degree weather day - just because.
_________________________________
Expenses (on the road to saving something):
- May 17
- Dinner: $12
- Metro: $1.35
- May 18
- Tolls: $8
- May 20
- Gas: $32
- Tolls: $8
- Dinner: $44
- May 21
- Lunch: $9
- Happy Hour: $25
Friday, May 04, 2007
Doesn't anyone else work?
Today I took a day off from work. Call it a mental health day, call it a comp day, call it whatever - it was great! Now, it wasn't quite Ferris Bueller style, but nevertheless, it was well worth it. Just knowing that everyone was holed up behind their computers having the life sucked out of them from the fluorescent lights and I was on my way to enjoying the sunny 70-degree weather made me giddy like a school girl.After a lazy morning of catching up on personal emails and making a real breakfast, I headed out to run some errands - but first, a stop at the car wash. I never drive and my car is wearing a good 1/4" coat of pollen, so I decide to treat it to a bath. Besides, if I'm going to be zipping around the city, I might as well do it in style. 11am on a Friday and I'm on my way down 13th Street to the Mr. Wash and what is this I see? A line?? Yes. About 30 cars are stretched down two city blocks with the same idea as me. Who are these people? Don't they work?
Car wash aborted.
I keep heading south, past the Washington Monument dodging packs of tourists who don't want to obey the walk signals. But, I'll give them some slack. They're on vacation, unlike the patrons at the car wash. Across the 14th Street bridge and I'm soon arriving at the Pentagon City Mall (one of my least favorite places, but I'm desperately in need of a new dress for a wedding next weekend). The parking lot is packed! I drive around twice before finding a spot. Seriously, there must be more housewives in the area than I thought.
Wrong. They are teenagers. Hoards of them. Isn't it a school day? For a moment I think I've time warped to the summer. Fortunately, they are not browsing the evening dress collection at Nordstrom so I'm safe for a while. Until, that is, I want to eat. There they are again. With food court vouchers! I decide to check out a few more stores until the lines go down but the only one within eyesight is some store called Forever 21. The fact that I'm 30 should have stopped me from entering, but I was desperate to kill time until the teeny boppers got through the Taco Bell line. (Gross, I know, but it IS my day off). I immediately concluded that this store is a disaster and that they most certainly won't have a dress for the "black tie invited" wedding I am due to attend, but I pick through the racks anyway, hoping for a miracle. No such luck, I'm better off in the Taco Bell line.
With tacos in hand, I set out to find a table and grab a seat at the end of a really long row. Creepy diplomatic man is sitting diagonally across from me and out of courtesy I ask if the seat was taken. Big mistake, he took that for my interest in conversing with him. I've never eaten three tacos so quickly. On my way.
2 1/2 hours later, mission accomplished and I'm on my way home. Back up 13th Street and the cars are STILL lined up at the car wash. It truly may be the same people, so I skip it again and decide to go to the gym. U Street is lined with shoppers and all of the outside tables at Starbucks are filled. For 3:3opm on a week day there are even more people at the gym than I expect, but it is no problem to get a machine. Still, I wonder what these people do that they can get to the gym in the middle of the day. I spend an hour and a half there, on the treadmill listening to my newly downloaded Amy Winehouse album, and then I watch the first 20 minutes of Oprah on the bike. Life is good. Oprah's playing Deal or No Deal with Howie Mandel and a lucky audience member goes home with $100,000. I head home with two sore legs.
Back in the hatch, I tidy up a bit, prep the porch for the summer and settle down with a good book.
What an excellent day. I'm sorry for those of you who were stuck at work, but from my observations today, I don't think there were too many of you!
_________________
Expenses (on the road to saving something):
- May 3
- Mother's Day flowers/gifts: $168
- May 4
- Lunch: $6
- Parking: $2
- Dress/ Alteration: $200
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