I’m proud of not being a workaholic, I remind myself as I sit down to edit a research article on the morning of Christmas Eve. It doesn’t feel entirely convincing today, but with a little mental arithmetic, I manage to convince myself that this is not the beginning of workaholism, but rather well-balanced freedom with responsibility. I keep track of my working hours and know that, all-in-all, I am not spending more hours than expected on work this Christmas week. I work on my article for about an hour a day during Christmas, making up for the hours I didn’t work at the beginning of the week. In addition, I get a much-needed break from the Christmas bustle, and I keep up my writing routine.
Unregulated working hours are great for us who like to sneak away for a while on Christmas, but dangerous for us who find it difficult to judge when sufficiency is reached. Unregulated working hours easily become limitless working hours.
For fixed-term employees, there is an additional dimension of duality in unregulated working hours. Doctoral students, for example, get working hours for writing their thesis, taking courses, and performing departmental duties. We don’t get working hours for things like writing articles that are not part of our theses or preparing applications for new research projects, even though both are things we are encouraged to spend some time on in order to increase our chances of securing a new position when the current one ends. In my experience, employers are careful to point out that there are no formal requirements to perform this type of extra work. At the same time, though, they slip in a couple of sentences along the lines of, “but it’s very good for your CV. If you can manage it, it’s good to work on it in parallel.”
A similar duality exists for other fixed-term researchers, who need to work in parallel on their current project and applications for new projects. The boundaries between paid work on a current project and unpaid work for a potential future job are blurred, making it difficult to know when you have worked enough on one or the other.
We all have our own methods for managing this freedom with responsibility. We set various spatial and temporal boundaries: here is work, there is rest. Here is research time, there is teaching time. Here is paid work, there is unpaid work. For some, this results in public holidays becoming research days. It is, as always, an art in itself to manage it all on a five-day work week, but on public holidays, you are not expected to teach, answer emails, or attend meetings. Public holidays are for research.
I have really gotten into the habit of using public holidays for research time, in order to keep up with both paid and unpaid work. I go into the office on days when it is locked and dark. Sitting alone in an office space, tapping away at the keyboard, makes me feel like I’m the only one who cannot keep up with everything during regular working hours. I have to catch up while everyone else can enjoy themselves and relax. Of course, this is not true, but that’s how it feels when I’m sitting there all alone. My limited employment is slipping away, and there are more items on the schedule than there are working hours. Before I know it, imposter syndrome sets in and makes me question whether I can do my job.
After suffering through this misery for three years in a row, I decide to try something new. During the Christmas holidays, I enter a crowded café with my laptop, among a whole bunch of other keyboard tappers. Surrounded by students, journalists, baristas, and researchers, I find acceptance. I’m one among many who work on a public holiday.
I don’t return to the office until Epiphany. The hallway is empty as I walk down it, but from inside my office, I can hear the elevator moving, a doorframe creaking, or the printer buzzing. Here, too, I’m not the only one who treats public holidays as research days.
Evelina Edfors
PhD student in Philosophy of Religion, Uppsala University
