Our boss has a day planner with all our scheduled vacation time in it. At the beginning of each year, she passes a new day planner around and we all take turns claiming the days off we would like to take for the next year. I’ve been working in the fraud unit longest (that’s still weird to me), so I got to pick first. I got all the days off I wanted.
Then the pandemic came and, until today, I’ve been scratching my vacation days off the calendar, because where was I going to go?
The rest of my coworkers have been scratching off their vacations days, too, and it makes me happy to know I work with people smart enough they know they shouldn’t go hang out at Devil’s Lake with the thousands of campers up from Illinois for the weekend. But last Monday in our weekly office staff meeting, the boss wanted to know why we weren’t taking time off. There was nothing but crickets on the conference call for several seconds, so I jumped in to explain that I wasn’t taking my time off because we couldn’t go anywhere.
This weekend, though, I continued, I’m taking the vacation days I had planned, because honestly I could use a couple days away from databases and spread sheets. I’m off today and Monday and I intend to tidy up the house and wash some clothes, but mostly I’m thinking I’ll be relaxing in the shade with a book in my hand and a beer at my side. Make it a proper stay-cation. Play with the cats. Stay up late watching old TV shows.