The romance of being a workaholic

We have become remarkably good at romanticizing being busy.

“I'm always working.”

“I’ll sleep when this project is over.”

“I’m the one everyone comes to when something needs to get done.”

For a long time, I saw these things as signs of commitment, ambition and reliability. Perhaps that is why a conversation with someone I greatly respect stayed with me. He is a CEO, a mentor and, fortunately for me, also a friend.

A prestigious news channel wanted to interview him one weekend. I assumed he would rearrange his plans. Instead, he declined. He had a golfing weekend planned, and he wasn’t prepared to compromise it.

My initial reaction was probably more dramatic than it needed to be.

Really? Surely this is important. Surely this is an opportunity that can’t wait.

But once I had calmed down, he gently explained his thinking.

Unless there was a serious problem that genuinely warranted a phone call, he believed we should protect our downtime.

Not feel guilty about it.

Not apologise for it.

Protect it.

Because we all need rest. We all need time away from work. And we need to be intentional about creating that space.

That conversation challenged something I had unconsciously come to believe: that important people should always be available. Perhaps the opposite is true.

There is a difference between being available for what matters and being available for everything.

We can become so accustomed to saying yes, solving problems and carrying responsibility that being busy becomes part of our identity. We start wearing exhaustion as a badge of honour.

But being capable can become a trap.

If you consistently deliver, people naturally come to you. If you rarely say no, your capacity quietly becomes everyone else's expectation.

And because you can do something doesn't necessarily mean you should.

This is particularly important for leaders.

Our relationship with work teaches other people what we consider acceptable. If we answer emails at midnight, never take leave and remain permanently available, others may believe that is what commitment looks like.

But perhaps leadership is also about giving people permission to be human.

Permission to switch off.

To take the weekend.

To spend time with family.

To pursue something completely unrelated to work.

To rest without feeling they have failed.

My mentor didn't teach me this through a leadership seminar. He simply lived it.

And eventually, I understood.

I still believe in ambition. I still believe in hard work. There will always be moments when the job requires more of us.

But there is a difference between being committed and being consumed.

And perhaps sustainable success isn't about being the person who can work the longest.

Maybe it's about being the person who knows what truly matters, protects the space to recharge, and has the confidence to say: