“Don’t Postpone Joy.” Actually, those words were my late 90s creed, spelled out on a button I wore at least once a week. Today the button’s stuck to the gray cubewall of my office. Today it’s the work I can’t postpone. Joy seems to be on terminal hold in the workplace.
At a small but sucessful startup company I worked for at the dawn of this century, we routinely incorporated joy into our 12 hour-plus workdays. After five we broke out the slushy green frozen margaritas or icy longnecks from our fully stocked fridge in back. Snack trays appeared, sometimes dinner. And we kept working. Joyously.
We even had a “Minister of Joy,” a fellow employee whose self-appointed job was to keep things fun. What a joy it was to go to work!
Then we were acquired by a stodgy, stick-in-the-mud corporation, forcing joy out the door quicker than you can say “grande mocha latte” (formerly company provided).
Good old resilient joy quickly moved into my home, right where it should have been dwelling all along. The trick will be not to put joy on pause too long or change the channel to despair.