In his 22 years at Rohm and Haas Company in Philadelphia, researcher John Lopuszanski has seen many employees come and go. But the one who stands out most in his mind is a senior chemist who was given officially sanctioned time off to finish her PhD. She was even guaranteed a job when she returned.
Rohm and Haas was true to its word. The chemist completed her education and she did come back. But she didn't stay very long. "At the time, there weren't a lot of female chemists with PhDs. It didn't take long for her to realize how marketable she was and move on," says Lopuszanski.
In another scenario, a commercial banker in San Francisco negotiated a six-month personal leave to complete her fine arts degree. After returning to the bank as promised, she discovered that her heart (and now her degree) were really in photography. She soon quit to become a photographer full time.
If you're considering stepping away, getting the go-ahead from your employer isn't the main problem, says Neil Bull. Instead, it's whether you can give yourself permission to take time off. He believes that we've all been afflicted by John Calvin, and personally curses him every morning for making people feel guilty every time they take a break.
Time away can be truly restorative. Even if you like your work, it can help you reconnect with yourself and the aspects of your life you find important.
Damona Sain, a 45-year-old counselor and assistant professor at the Community College of Philadelphia, would have to agree. A year off from her job, where she's one of two counselors assigned to 5,000 students, has been just what she needs to re cover her health and a piece of her sanity.
Although the school would only agree to pay her half-salary (plus full benefits), the psychologist jumped at the chance to relax and recoup.
Five years ago. Sain had her first child while still in the process of writing her doctoral dissertation. However pleasurable, both activities took a real physical and emotional toll. Indeed, her first priority now is to get her health back. Her second goal is to get reacquainted with her husband and spend more time with her son. Beyond that, she's taking her leave one day at a time, hoping to get in touch with her own needs and desires.
Five months into the sabbatical, she's noticed that her experience of time has changed dramatically. "I feel like I'm living in a different time frame," says Sain. "I was always a 'human doer.' Now I spend time just 'being.' It's like a gift from the heavens to take time off-a gift I thank God for every single morning."
Sain's "being" time is the existential time she takes for herself to walk along the lake, watch the sunrise or jog slowly through the park. It's time that's governed by inner rhythms and unrestrained by schedules or clocks.
You can probably identify with Sain's time-management dilemma. On a typical workday, she must juggle a full plate of family and career responsibilities. While she accepts responsibility for her commitments, they leave her drained and exhausted. She partly blames the advent of computers and other labor-saving devices designed to make us all more efficient. They increase our expectations and push us to do more, rather than use any time saved for leisure and relaxation, she says.
