I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately after stumbling across a discussion where someone asked working parents to be brutally honest about their daily cleaning routines. The responses were refreshingly real and made me realise just how much pressure we put on ourselves to maintain some impossible standard of domestic perfection.

The original poster laid out their reality: two full-time working parents, a three-year-old, a dog, and the crushing weight of trying to fit everything into 24 hours while still getting the sleep they need for their health. Sound familiar? By the time they’ve done the morning rush, worked eight hours, squeezed in essential exercise, and handled dinner and bedtime routines, the day is done. Cleaning gets pushed to weekends, where exhaustion battles with the desperate need for just a moment to breathe.

I stumbled across an interesting workplace dilemma online recently that really got me thinking. Someone had been offered a choice between 10 extra days of annual leave (that doesn’t expire and can be cashed out) or an ongoing 0.5% superannuation increase. They were earning around $180k and genuinely torn about which option to take.

The responses were fascinating and really highlighted how differently people value time versus money. The mathematical minds quickly jumped in with calculations - the leave being worth about $6,920 if cashed out versus the super contribution of $900 annually. On paper, it seems like a no-brainer, right? Take the leave, cash it out if needed, and you’re significantly ahead financially in the short term.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what really makes a job worth having. Sure, the pay packet matters – we all have bills to pay and teenagers to feed – but there’s something else that’s been nagging at me: freedom. Not the existential kind, but the day-to-day autonomy we have (or don’t have) in our working lives.

It started with a discussion I stumbled across recently where someone posed a simple question: how “free” are you at work? The responses were fascinating and, frankly, a bit depressing. It got me reflecting on my own journey through the IT world, from junior developer frantically trying to look busy whenever a manager walked by, to now where I can theoretically take a two-hour lunch break without anyone batting an eyelid.

The topic of solo lunching has been making rounds in online discussions lately, and it’s fascinating how polarizing this seemingly simple choice can be. Taking lunch breaks alone isn’t just about eating – it’s about creating a vital pause in our increasingly demanding workdays.

Working in tech for over two decades, I’ve experienced both the social butterfly and lone wolf approaches to lunch breaks. These days, you’ll typically find me walking down Exhibition Street, seeking out a quiet spot in one of the lesser-known cafes, or simply finding a peaceful corner in our office building’s rooftop garden.

Reading about a recent workplace incident has my blood boiling. Picture this: a new mother on maternity leave gets pressured by a fresh manager who seems utterly baffled by the concept that employees might occasionally need time away to, you know, have babies and care for them.

The story hit close to home because my own daughter recently started her first job, and I dread thinking about her potentially facing similar situations in her career. The new manager in this tale repeatedly mentioned how “weird” it was to have someone on the books but not physically present. Really? In 2024? Maternity leave has been around longer than email, for crying out loud.

Reading through various online discussions about taking time off during the holiday season has sparked some thoughts about our relationship with work in this always-connected digital age. The story of a fast-food manager finally clocking out for the year particularly resonated with me.

Working in tech, I’m perpetually tethered to Slack, emails, and various project management tools. The concept of truly disconnecting feels almost foreign sometimes. Just yesterday, while enjoying my morning batch brew at Patricia Coffee on Little Bourke Street, I caught myself habitually checking work messages despite being officially on leave.