Don't ask: Working the weekend

This being Friday night, I started thinking about all the things I have to get done this weekend. And how I'm going to have plenty of time to do them. Know why? Cause I won't be working.

Everyone needs a philosophy to live by. I actually have a few of them, and one is if God wanted me to work on weekends he would've called those days Monday 1 and Monday 2. But he didn't, and I don't.

Anyway, there are plenty of times writing these posts feels like work. You know, the same way you feel when you read them. So since tonight is the official start of my weekend, it's pencils (keyboard) down.

In that spirit, I've opted for a re-post from my critically acclaimed, almost award-winning, fan favorite "Don't Ask" series. I think it'll be a perfectly swell start to your weekend.

Please to enjoy.

I know what you're thinking: why haven't I posted a new installment of my ever popular Don't Ask series - the one that brought you such widely read and revered gems like Don't Ask: Moving, Don't Ask: Picking Up At The Airport, Don't Ask: Loaning You Money, Don't Ask: Sharing A Hotel Room, Don't Ask: Writing A Letter For You and the perennial Don't Ask: Sharing My Food.

Well, tonight's your lucky night. I'm posting my latest in the series, and it's about a particular nuisance that effects every creative person in the business: working the weekend.

Jay Chiat of Chiat/Day fame had a quote that's been misquoted and bounced around ad agencies ever since he said it. If you're in advertising, you're already saying it to yourself: "If you're not here on Saturday, don't bother coming in on Sunday."

Looks like I won't be seeing you Sunday.

Agencies are notorious for their outsized and aggressive disregard for both working smart and your life. If they did the first one, working weekends wouldn't happen nearly as often as it does. Which would mean you'd get some of your life back.

Since I believe agencies will start working smart and utilizing their time more efficiently about the same time I ride my unicorn to Xanadu while drinking from the Holy Grail, I've chosen not to wait. I'm taking it back. Weekends are personal time. They're days of rest by definition. They are non-work days. Here's what I do on weekends. I spend time with my kids. I go out with the wife. I get things done around the house. I veg and binge Breaking Bad again.

Know what I don't do? Work.

Maybe if there were fewer 12-person meetings to kick-off the latest banner ad, not as many mandatory attendance pep talks to rally the troops, and less presentations to the staff from the Executive Group Specialist In Experimental Branding Strategy & Innovative Demographic Search Engine Optimization Solutions, there'd be enough time during the week to get the actual, bill-paying, income producing work done.

Not to brag, but because I have this policy of no weekends, I get my work done during the week. When I pack up Friday night, everything that needed to be done is done. Monday will bring a whole new set of challenges, and I'll get those done during the next five days too.

I know this is a radical position for a freelancer with a kid in college to take. Especially since weekends are usually double time. At a nice day rate, that can add up pretty quick. I know freelancers that hope for weekend work - something about gettin' while the gettin's good. Whatever. When your relationship with your kids turns into a Harry Chapin song, don't come crying to me.

Don't get me wrong. This is not to say I haven't worked weekends and won't again on those very few occasions it's necessary. But it usually isn't, despite the desperation, authoritative tone, insinuations about reputations and false logic that since they have to be there you have to be there. Almost as weak an argument as "If I do it for you, I have to do it for everyone else."

So go ahead, talk about how I'm too good to come in on Saturday. How I don't want to be a team player. How pissed everyone's going to be that they're at work and I'm not.

And if you want to tell me to my face, fine.

Call me. I'll be at home.

Happy Labor Day

We're into the long weekend, and tomorrow is Labor Day. So what better time to celebrate by listening to some fine music celebrating the tone and spirit of this deserved holiday that honors this country's Labor movement and the working men and woman who led it.

Alright, not all of these songs actually honor the movement - some have a little fun with it.

From Elvis to Alabama, maybe you'll know a few of these. If you do, or even if you don't, please to enjoy. And be sure to make the most of your holiday weekend.

You worked hard for it.

What weekend?

Here's what I think happens. Every Friday after work - when I'm lucky enough to be working - unbeknownst (five-dollar word) to me I get kidnapped and placed into a time machine set for Monday.

Then, as if there was never any weekend at all, it's just me and Monday morning.

The kidnappers are smart. They implant false memories in my head, like what happened on Dexter (someone got killed), True Blood (someone got turned) and The Newsroom (someone was walking and talking fast) when they aired on Sunday so I'll believe I've actually had a weekend.

But I haven't. I know this because they also give me memories of running around the entire weekend I didn't have doing errands, then doing chores when I'm at home. For some reason, they don't want me to have any memories of a pleasurable, leisurely weekend.

Because they know that would just make me want them more.

Even though I think I'm writing this on Sunday night, I know that can't be and it's probably actually Monday morning.

Fortunately after this coming week I'll be on vacation. Then every day will feel like Saturday.

At least that's what I'm hoping.

The happiest place on Monday

There are two life rules that've served me pretty well. Always avoid the 5 freeway, and never go to Disneyland on a weekend or holiday.

But since today was neither, I decided it was the perfect time to carpé Mickey.

My kids were out of school today. Some kind of teachers conference or something. Anyway, since my wife is an administrator at their school, she was off as well. And since I'm a freelancer, well, need I say more? So, a Monday. The family's together. Everyone else is in school. Not a holiday.

It was go time for Disneyland.

There really is something magical about maneuvering through the park without being bumped by thousands of sweaty tourists wearing mouse ears and doing their impression of sardines. The ability to just walk into a ride and get on it without waiting is definitely worth the price of admission.

Even the price of admission is worth the price of admission. We have the Deluxe Southern California Resident passes. Which means we can just jump in the car on a whim - as long as our whim isn't on a blackout day - and drive on over to the Magic Kingdom.

We didn't spend the whole day there. Just the afternoon. We hit about five line-free rides, had some ice cream, and called it a day. If it were this easy all the time, we'd be there all the time.

The other thing about being there when the park isn't so crowded is that it gives you the chance to notice things you might not otherwise see. My wife was waiting while we went on one of the rides. As she waited, she saw the Mr. Incredible character (or as I like to call him, the other Mr. Incredible) interact with an obviously mentally challenged younger child. The character stared into the child's eyes, and the child stared back. Then Mr. Incredible got down on his knee, right in front of the child, and held his hand up. The child smiled and touched Mr. Incredible's hand.

On another, busier day, swarmed with screaming children wanting their picture taken with him, Mr. Incredible wouldn't have had the time to give to the child my wife saw today.

But on a slow Monday at Disneyland, obviously, that's where the real magic is.