COMMENTARY

The Joys of Workaholism

By JIM SOLLISCH
March 16, 2007; Page A13
 

I recently had a bout of workaholism. Let's call it an episode. I binged on work for about four months. And while I'm not yet ready to attend a 12-step WA meeting, I am concerned about how easily I fell into a workaholic trance. It was a delicious mix of adrenaline, caffeine, self-importance and a heady rush of focus. Gone was the indecision. Suddenly I was a verb -- and not one passively constructed. I was all action. It was invigorating to be riveted to a single purpose -- like a rock climber without ropes.

According to a recent Gallup poll, 44% of Americans consider themselves workaholics. While I'm not a slacker, if I had to choose between slacker and workaholic on a survey, I'd go with slacker. Let me explain: Although I am a writer and creative director at an advertising agency, I have managed to avoid working more than a couple of weekends in the last 10 years. I cook dinner for my family three or four times a week. I rarely miss one of my kid's lacrosse or baseball games. I play basketball, squash and poker regularly. And I write pieces like this, usually two or three per month, for newspapers and magazines. At least I did until I succumbed to workaholism a few months ago.

I have always looked down on people who are addicted to work. As a group they don't admit to being happy. They tend to look a little pasty. They always say they wish they had more time for their families, a sentiment 83% of Americans expressed in a recent survey. But they've never seemed wholly convincing to me in their unhappiness. And now I know their secret.

They're not unhappy at all. They've discovered a way to reduce one of the most stressful aspects of modern life: having to make a seemingly unlimited number of choices.

Barry Schwartz, a social scientist at Swarthmore, makes the case in his book "The Paradox of Choice" that unlimited choice produces genuine suffering. The more choices we have to make, the less certainty we seem to have. When we have 285 kinds of cookies to choose from in the grocery store, how can we be sure we've picked the right one? And that's just cookies. When faced with seemingly unlimited choices that have significant consequences like which stocks to invest in, which career to pursue or even which person to marry, many people become what Professor Schwartz calls "maximizers": people who relentlessly search for the best option. These people spend a great deal of time and energy on choices that will never satisfy them.

Workaholics are choosing to spend less time making choices by choosing to work so much. And let me tell you, it's quite a relief. During my work binge, I avoided considering hundreds of choices each day. For example, in my normal semi-slacker state, I start each day reading the paper and trying to find a subject to write about. The choices are almost limitless, and I spend many mornings in a miserable state of ambivalent non-decision. But as a workaholic, it's easy. I immediately know what to write: the ad that's due tomorrow, a video script, a presentation. Work does me a favor by choosing for me.

As a binge worker, I was too busy to cook dinner most nights. So my wife would buy prepared food, thus saving me the agony of hundred choices. Romaine or arugula? Organic or regular? Beef, chicken or pork? What about lamb? Chops or ground? Pasta or rice? And then basmati or jasmine . . . My wife also took over the social calendar. Deciding what movie to go to can take me most of a Saturday. But fortunately in my new life as an IMPORTANT PERSON, I had to work on Saturday, and when I got home, my wife had already chosen the movie.

Prior to becoming a work junkie, I had planned to buy an iPod, an act which leads to an almost infinite number of decisions, including figuring out what music I actually like. I dodged that bullet, remaining iPodless. I also put off making a will and changing the allocations on my 401(k) during my four-month work orgy. Being too busy to read, I was freed from the heart-rending decision of choosing which book to spend the next month with.

In fact, now that my life is returning to balance, I find myself getting anxious. Questions big and small abound. What's for dinner? What's the purpose of my life? Thank God, I have to get back to work.

Mr. Sollisch is a creative director at an ad agency in Cleveland.