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Appearing to be hard at work is risky busyness
I don't mean to show off, but I am very, very busy. At least I think I am.
But what if I'm not? After all, everyone I know thinks she's busy, and everyone I read about and hear about is busy. And if everyone's busy, doesn't that sort of mean no one's busy?
I mean, we can't all be busier than everyone else, can we? We can't all be on the showoff side of the bell curve, right?
Or can we? Although we live in an age in which everything is measurable and comparable - we have tables to tell us if we're thin or fat, rich or poor, short or tall, if our homes cost more or less than the average, if our cholesterol is high or low - when it comes to determining how busy we truly are, we're on our own.
Which is very dangerous. You've got people all over the country running around claiming to be busier than thou - busy is the new rich - and yet, no one has to open his or her books, or Palm Pilot.
I say it's time for the government, or Bill Gates, or Starbucks to step in. Why not poll the country - questions could be added to the census - and then, armed with data, establish some hard numbers?
The single waitress working double shifts to support her two kids who has to commute 45 minutes each way to work? She's busy. The starlet suffering from nervous exhaustion after an InStyle cover shoot? Sorry, pretty lady.
When I mentioned my idea to a friend - one, whom I might add, took two weeks to return a call because she's so . . . busy - she at first liked the concept, but then got kind of panicky.
``I've been claiming I'm busy for years,'' she said, as she talked from her cell phone while she grocery shopped after work with her toddler. ``What if it turns out I'm not? I'd have to start writing thank-you notes and decorate my house. It's terrifying to contemplate.''
It would be like living your whole life thinking you're a blonde, and then at some late point in the game, discovering you're a brunette.
``What would count as busy?'' she wanted to know.
It was a a good question, and one I'm sure will lead to years of lobbying and litigation, should the plan be adopted.
Would exercise count as leisure or work? How about clothes shopping, if you weren't in the mood to do it, or you started out in the mood, but then nothing looked good on you? What about reading Entertainment Weekly?
``Would spending hours and hours complaining count?'' another of my very busy friends asked. ``If it turned out the guidelines didn't allow for that - and channel surfing - I'd be the laziest person in America.''
Or would she? Because she's in the media, and hence talking to people and keeping current with TV is part of her job, I think those activities could actually count toward her daily busyness total. It would be like a work-related business expense in reverse.
And besides, I told her, if you don't like your busyness score, you could always appeal. Or could you? Maybe having time to litigate your case would prove you're not . . . busy.