By Joe Robinson
Sunday, July 27, 2003;
SANTA MONICA, Calif.
"How do Americans do it?" asked the stunned Australian I met on a remote
Fijian shore. He
had zinc oxide and a twisted-up look of absolute bafflement on his face.
I'd seen that
expression before, on German, Swiss and British travelers. It was the
kind of amazement
that might greet someone who had survived six months at sea in a rowboat.
The feat he was referring to is how Americans manage to live with the
stingiest vacation
allotment in the industrialized world -- 8.1 days after a year on the
job, 10.2 days after
three years, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. The Aussie, who
took every
minute of his annual five weeks off -- four of them guaranteed by law --
just couldn't
fathom a ration of only one or two weeks of freedom a year. "I'd have to
check myself into
the loony bin," he declared.
Well, welcome to the cuckoo's nest, mate -- otherwise known as the United
States. In this
country, vacations are not only microscopic, they're shrinking faster
than revenues on a
corporate restatement. Though it's the height of summer, I'm betting
you're not reading
this while lolling on the beach. A survey by the Internet travel company
Expedia.com has
found that Americans will be taking 10 percent less vacation time this
year than last --
too much work to get away, said respondents. This continues a trend that
has seen the
average American vacation trip buzzsawed down to a long weekend,
according to the travel
industry. Some 13 percent of American companies now provide no paid
leave, up from 5
percent five years ago, according to the Alexandria-based Society for
Human Resource
Management. In Washington state, a whopping 17 percent of workers get no
paid leave.
Vacations are going the way of real bakeries and drive-in theaters, fast
becoming a quaint
remnant of those pre-downsized days when so many of us weren't doing the
jobs of three
people. The result is unrelieved stress, burnout, absenteeism, rising
medical costs,
diminished productivity and the loss of time for life and family.
In the course of doing my own survey for a book on how we can be
productive and have a
life at the same time, I've heard all about the vanishing vacation from
Americans who say
they hardly have a chance to catch their breath or enjoy the fruits of
their labor. These
are people like Nancy Jones, a nurse in Southern California, who last
year put in a
vacation request in January to attend her son's wedding in July. "They
kept giving me the
runaround," she recalled. "They tell you they don't know if you can have
the time, because
they expect to be busy. It happens all the time." After her manager
ignored numerous
requests, she wound up having to corner the director of the company, just
days before the
wedding, to get the time off.
An aerospace worker from Seattle sent me an e-mail that sums up the
growing dilemma of
vacations that are only on paper: "If you try to take a couple of your
vacation days, you
get told no, so your only recourse is to call in sick . . . and risk
getting management
mad and becoming a potential candidate for termination. What happened to
families and the
reason we go to work to begin with?"
As someone raised on summer vacation road trips in my family's intrepid
station wagon, I
believe that's a question we've lost sight of. After writing about our
vacation deficit
disorder as a journalist, I decided three years ago to start a
grass-roots campaign to
lobby for a law mandating a minimum of three weeks of paid leave. Since
then, thousands of
Americans have signed a supporting petition, and many have volunteered
poignant tales from
the overworked-place, such as the 35-year-old victim of a heart attack
whose doctor
attributed 100 percent of his ailment to unrelieved job stress, or the
50-year-old
engineer who was downsized to a job that offered zero paid leave.
In the early '90s, Juliet Schor called attention to skyrocketing work
weeks and declining
free time in her book, "The Overworked American." In the decade since
that groundbreaking
work appeared, things not only haven't gotten any better -- they've
gotten worse. We're
now logging more hours on the job than we have since the 1920s. Almost 40
percent of us
work more than 50 hours a week. And just a couple of weeks ago, before
members of the
House of Representatives took off on their month-plus vacations, they
opted to pile more
work onto American employees by approving the White House's rewrite of
wage and hour
regulations, which would turn anyone who holds a "position of
responsibility" into a
salaried employee who can be required to work unlimited overtime for no
extra pay.
Vacations are being downsized by the same forces that brought us soaring
work weeks: labor
cutbacks, a sense of false urgency created by tech tools, fear and, most
of all, guilt.
Managers use the climate of job insecurity to stall, cancel and
abbreviate paid leave,
while piling on guilt. The message, overt or implied, is that it would be
a burden on the
company to take all your vacation days -- or any. Employees get the hint:
One out of five
employees say they feel guilty taking their vacation, reports Expedia's
survey. In a new
poll of 700 companies by ComPsych Corp., a Chicago-based employee
assistance provider, 56
percent of workers would be postponing vacations until business improved.
Guilt works, because we are programmed to believe that only productivity
and tasks have
value in life, that free time is worthless, though it produces such
trifles as family,
friends, passions -- and actual living. But before the work ethic was
hijacked by the
overwork ethic, there was a consensus in this country that work was a
means, not an end,
to more important goals. In 1910, President William Howard Taft proposed
a two- to three-
month vacation for American workers. In 1932, both the Democratic and
Republican platforms
called for shorter working hours, which averaged 49 a week in the 1920s.
The Department of
Labor issued a report in 1936 that found the lack of a national law on
vacations shameful
when 30 other nations had one, and recommended legislation. But it never
happened. This
was the fork in the road where the United States and Europe, which then
had a similar
amount of vacation time, parted ways.
Europe chose the route of legal, protected vacations, while we went the
other -- no
statutory protection and voluntary paid leave. Now we are the only
industrialized nation
with no minimum paid-leave law. Europeans get four or five weeks by law
and can get
another couple of weeks by agreement with employers. The Japanese have
two legally
mandated weeks, and even the Chinese get three. Our vacations are solely
at the discretion
of employers. The lack of legal standing is what makes vacations here
feel so illegitimate
-- and us so guilty when we try to take one.
Evidence shows that time off is not the enemy of productivity; to the
contrary, it's the
engine. U.S. companies that have implemented a three-week vacation policy
have seen their
profits and productivity soar. Profits have doubled at the H Group, a
financial services
firm in Salem, Ore., since an across-the-board three-week vacation became
the rule nine
years ago. They have risen 15 percent at Jancoa, a Cincinnati-based
janitorial services
firm with 468 employees that also went to a three-week policy a few years
ago. The owners
of both these companies told me they believe the switch in vacation
policy is directly
responsible for the improvement. Before the change, said the owner of
Jancoa, the company
had a high employee turnover rate and chronic overtime; after the new
vacation policy went
into effect, morale went sky-high, and so did productivity, which solved
both the turnover
and overtime problems. This is not surprising -- rested employees perform
better than
zombies, as fatigue studies have demonstrated since the 1920s. One study
showed that if
you work seven 50-hour weeks in a row, you'll get no more done than if
you worked seven
40-hour weeks in a row. Yet we have made work style -- how long, how
torturously -- more
important than how well we do the job.
Overwork doesn't just cost employees. The tab paid by business for job
stress is $150
billion a year, according to one study. Yet vacations can cure even the
worst form of
stress -- burnout -- by re-gathering crashed emotional resources, say
researchers. But it
takes two weeks for this process to occur, says one study, which is why
long weekends
aren't vacations. An annual vacation can also cut the risk of heart
attack by 30 percent
in men and 50 percent in women.
Walter Perkins, a finance VP for a large American engineering firm, told
me how he became
a believer after running a Dutch firm acquired by his employer. He
presided over six-week
holidays for his staff and says he saw no loss of productivity. "The
Dutch work just as
hard as their American counterparts," Perkins said, "but they have that
knowledge that
they're going to get that one month or more where they can really
recharge the batteries.
Guess what? Things don't come to a halt." The stats back him up. Contrary
to the American
myth, a number of European countries have caught up with the United
States in
productivity. In fact, Europe had a higher productivity growth rate in 14
of the 19 years
between 1981 and 2000, according to the U.S. Federal Reserve Board.
I find it strange that the land of the free should be so deficient in
vacation time, which
is as free as you can get all year. In fact, the word vacation comes from
the Latin root
vacatio, which means "freedom."A vacation is our chance to get out there
and discover and
travel, to connect with family and friends, to put one over on the
survival game. But fear
is a specialist in strangling liberty. We're told that, with real
vacations, companies
would fall apart and the U.S. economy would suddenly turn into
Paraguay's.
This is why we need a law that will put an end to the bait and switch of
vacation time, as
well as leave that's being yanked completely. Legalized paid leave also
would end the loss
of accrued vacation time for downsized workers in their thirties, forties
and fifties, who
have to start their paid leave banks over again, as if they were at their
very first job.
I agree that time is money, just not in the way we think it is. Time
itself is the truly
precious currency, because our supply of it is very limited. We need to
pump our fists
when we get vacation time and not feel guilty. This was brought home to
me while I was on,
yes, vacation in the medieval city of Evora, Portugal. There, I visited a
bizarre little
church whose walls, columns and ceiling are plastered with the femurs,
tibias and skulls
of hundreds of 16th-century monks and nuns. The Chapel of Bones was
designed by a creative
sort to aid in the contemplation of mortality. I must admit it provided a
very good
reality check, particularly the parting words inscribed over the doorway:
"We the bones
already in here are just waiting for the arrival of yours." Words to
remember the next
time someone wants to downsize your downtime into a long weekend.