The cost of interrupted work (2023)

Some days an interruption will throw me off my train of thought, and I spend the remaining six hours collecting discarded bottles and railway ties for hopeful use somewhere, somehow, sometime.

Other days an interruption costs me pretty much nothing.

I’m still trying to figure out how to tell which of those days I’m going to have and whether to just not log into Slack for the day.

My feelings exactly. Whenever I get one of those days I’ve found I get more done away from my desk. Taking a walk in the forest or doing some household chores can really help you get back on track.

Of course at times it’s just better to admit altogether this isn’t a day meant for work and spend it relaxing instead. Usually, the benefit of that is a really productive day at work the day after too, everybody wins.

Almost all my employers and managers have been very understanding about this. But one of my favourites was a manager earlier in my career who picked up that I was anxious about my work hours and ethic. To paraphrase, he said, “the company isn’t paying you to solve problems M-F 9-5. It’s paying you for when you solve them in the shower or on a walk or when you’re putting your kid to bed, and then come into work and implement the solution.”

I’ve thought about this for years as I tune my work life balance. I’ve never felt like I’m wrongly bringing work home with me that way. It’s always felt like an incredible optimization where my job gives me these puzzles I get to carry with me and work on when I’m bored or my ADHD addled brain screams for stimulation.

Do you happen to know if that one is hiring for anything at the moment? Left to solve problems at that pace, I'm pretty sure I could do some great things for them.

Most remote work gigs are basically this.