January 03, 2005

Work and the Holidays

Mark Steyn ran an interesting little column about the difference between European sensibilities and those here in the U.S. with respect to work. He points out that the European phrase "over Christmas" has come to mean between Christmas and sometime in mid-January, and that the entire affair takes nearly three weeks. He points out that for many here in the States, the next working day is a real working day, even if it's the 26th of December. I might argue with that, in that a lot of offices shut down or perform only essential functions between Christmas and New Year's, but there is an underlying principle that is correct.

I was just at the annual party of a Pasadena friend who calls his January function "Back to Reality," meaning that his soiree is the official dividing line between "the holidays" and "the real world." This always occurs on the first Sunday after New Year's Day, which means that it happened today, though the New Year's Day floats were still on display in Pasadena, which didn't help people in getting to his house. Many assumed that "Back to Reality" would take place the following week, but this friend is an engineer: January 2nd it was. My point being, there might be a little wiggle room on either side, but for most Americans with office jobs, the absolute maximum time off in the winter is probably two weeks, and for many it's closer to two days. For some, it's one day, Christmas itself.

My husband tells me that the 6th is a good, traditional last moment for taking down the Christmas decorations in the Catholic world, though I was always told the day after New Year's. I'll accept the later time as the real deadline, because that's my way. Again: there's a matter of interpretation, but there are eventually Real Limits. (Except for me: I got sucked into a 70-hour/week job one January and didn't box up my Christmas ornaments that year until late June. I've sewn a scarlet "Noel" onto my clothing, though, so people will know my shame.)

But the fundamental difference between the European approach and that of Americans is in our conviction that at some point "the piper must be paid." Even the entertainment industry, which on a superficial level resembles the European aristocracy—doing next to nothing between Thanksgiving and the second in January—takes that time after months of working schedules that would kill any number of Europeans (and I say that with love). Those whom many regard as the American answer to aristocrats, actors and actresses, work 12-hour days when they have a project, and sometimes spend the weeks or months in between projects in a state of nervous collapse. It just ain't the same as the European attitude that says we're entitled to six weeks' vacation every year, and someone ought to pay for it.

The French and Germans, who average 40 days vacation a year, assume the reason Americans don't take holidays is because they don't get them. In fact, it's very hard persuading Americans to take the ones they do get. In rural states, most federal holidays -- Presidents Day, Martin Luther King Day, etc. -- go unobserved except by banks and government agencies. It was all I could do to persuade my assistant not to come in on Christmas Day -- ''just for a couple of hours in the morning in case there's anything urgent,'' she says pleadingly.

''There won't be anything urgent,'' I scoff.

''What about all that European research you wanted me to chase up?''

''Those deadbeats won't be back in the office till the week before Valentine's Day.'' Since lunchtime on Dec. 23, every business in Europe has been on an answering machine.

So there's your difference right there: we have a drive here, a desire to get things done right. To put in the time to make it so. And it makes our economy stronger than those in Europe, which are roughly comparable to our more disadvantaged states (think Arkansas, Mississippi—nothing against these places, but not the model of economic development London and Paris should be emulating).

Steyn again:

In 1999, the average ''working'' German worked 1,536 hours a year, the average American 1,976. In the United States, 49 percent of the population is in employment, in France 39 percent. From my strictly anecdotal observation of German acquaintances, the ideal career track seems to be to finish school around 34 and take early retirement at 42. By 2050, the pimply young lad in lederhosen serving you at the charming beer garden will be singlehandedly supporting entire old folks' homes. If tax rates were to be hiked commensurate to the decline in tax base and increase in welfare obligations, there would be no incentive at all to enter the (official) job market. Better to stay at school till 38 and retire at 39. That's why America's richer, and why, though the Europeans preen about their kinder, gentler society, customers of Amazon.com have pledged more money to disaster relief in the Indian Ocean than the French government.

It's horrifying because it's true. Finally, Deacon's quote at Power Line that turned me on to Steyn's column in the first place:

Europe has a psychological investment in longer holidays: The fact that they spell national suicide is less important than that they distinguish Europe from the less enlightened Americans. Many aspects of European life are, indeed, very pleasant: jobs for life, three-week Yuletides, etc. But they're what the environmental crowd would call ''unsustainable development.'' Despite the best efforts of lethargic Scotsmen, it can't be Christmas all year round.

Nor would I really want it to be. Europe has a problem. A big problem. They are on an economic bender that will eventually produce one hell of a hangover.

Posted by: Attila at 01:25 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment
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