Two-Hour Lunches = Happiest and Most Productive Work Year of My Life
I’m just rounding up a year in Lyon, France before my move back to Singapore. And a move is a time for reflection. Looking back, I’d say: it’s been a GREAT year. And the main reason for that? My two-hour workday lunches.
For the last 20 years, I have worked alone. No colleagues, just a computer and a wifi connection. I have worked in apartments in Sydney, Bombay, Hong Kong, Singapore, Paris, London, New York, Lyon, Aix-en-Provence… I have worked at the beach in Thailand, on holidays everywhere, in co-working spaces anywhere, and once, even in a pool in Marrakesh. Give me a wifi connection, baby, and I’m on it.
And while this ultra flexibility given to me by my job, this uber digital nomadism, has been incredible, the truth is, I work alone. All alone. Until recently, I never met clients, never spoke to them – they’d send me an email with their paper to be edited, we’d engage in an exchange about schedules and fees, then I’d do my work, email it to them, and wait for the money to hit my account.
All alone. No chit chat. No discussions around coffee about last weekend. No space for my humanity. No acknowledgment of anything outside the words on that page and the money that would hit my account.
And all this is especially weird because I’m actually super social. I love having people over, organizing events, participating in communal activities.
But this year, I had to do things differently. Mostly because the internet connection at my apartment, for the first time in my life, was excruciatingly poor, but also because we were two of us working at home, I had to get myself a co-working spot.
And a co-working space in Lyon is nothing like I’ve seen before. Here, the accent is on the “co”.
I found a co-working for freelance professionals in the media – journalists, web designers, translators, coaches, etc. A cool bunch of people, all working on their own as well.
And, to my surprise, come 12 noon, they would all slowly emerge from behind their screens, gather around the communal lunch table or in the kitchen, preparing their salads, making their soups, bringing their pre-packed home made lunch or a meal from around the corner, all eating lunch together. And sharing dessert. And talking.
At first, I had been horrified by what seemed like a waste of time – two hours for lunch when 10 minutes for a sandwich/salad were more than enough? (When had I become so Anglo-Saxon?) When do these people ever get anything done, I had thought.
But in the back of my mind was that statistic I had seen: French people worked fewer hours than the Americans (who we all know LOVE talking about how much they work), but were more productive.
But I’m a big believer of “when in Rome…”, so I followed along. And here’s what started becoming clear to me after a couple of months: I’m doing the same amount of work I was doing before, the two-hour lunch is not decreasing my productivity, AND I’m happy. I’m a real person. I count. I mean something. I’m not my work. I’m not my role (wife, mother, sister, daughter). I am, I laugh, I work, I eat, I share, I exchange, I help, I support. I’m fulfilled. I am seen. I exist. All from my two-hour lunch.
Did you get that bit about being just as productive? In fact, if anything, I worked more.
The two-hour lunch put me in a good mood. I felt happy, I was buoyant. I was cut off from my work, which dragged me down during periods of stress. And when I went back to work after lunch, I could work for another 3 to 4 hours, without stopping, without giving up, without the afternoon slump (and this was HUGE).
I know I won’t be able to recreate this in Singapore (where the accent tends to be on “work” rather than on “co”), but if there’s one thing I’ve learnt it’s to take the time to do what I enjoy doing without feeling guilty about it. Because fewer work hours mean I work harder, work better. And, of course, I’m happier. What more is there in life, really?
[And for anyone in Lyon, France who’d like to partake of this fantastic experience: try the L’Atelier des Médias.]