Barefoot Bookseller? What a job!
Have you ever encountered a job description that sounds as if itwas literally written just for you?
The description for the job of “Barefoot Bookseller” at the five-star luxurious Soneva Fushi resort in the Maldives sounds a lot like it’s tailor-made for your (suddenly not so) humble Biblioracle.
Wanted: Someone with “a love of reading and in-depth knowledge of both classical and modern literature,” with “excellent written and verbal English skills; a lively tone of voice to write an entertaining blog that captures the exhilarating life of a desert island bookseller; and the skills to host workshops and other guest experiences.”
The Barefoot Bookseller will also circulate among guests, recommending books that will meet their needs to read for pleasure, all in a location that is largely (knock wood) untouched by the coronavirus pandemic.
Umm… hello? Where do I sign up? Even though a previous call for the position last year resulted in thousands of applicants, it would be all mine.
Alas, it is not to be. At this stage inmy life, I amnot in a position to take the perfect job.
For one, it is a temp gig for the sixmonth tourist season. Second, it is in the Maldives, which is awesome but also a long way fromthe life I already have.
Giving up my work, having Mrs. Biblioracle give up herwork and moving halfway around theworld for a temp gig, no matter how awesome it sounds, is not something we can afford to do.
We are not yet at the finish line that says we’re allowed to stop churning away. There’s no guarantee we’ll ever get there, and, in fact, most Americans won’t.
Lastweek I wrote about Anne Helen Petersen’s “Can’t Even: How Millennials Became the Burnout Generation,” and I’ve been thinking about the book ever since, how even those of us who are on the fortunate end of things can’t— or at least think we can’t— afford to give ourselves any slack, lest we fall behind whatever it is we’re supposed to be ahead of.
Now, this doesn’t mean we must upend society in such away thatwe can dump what we’re doing at a moment’s notice to head up a boutique bookstore and literary programming at a luxury resort, but where is the slack?
Where is the sense that taking a breather is not only allowed, but encouraged? How many of you feel as if you can exhale, that you’ve got this, that you could take a chance or shift gears and you won’t be unduly punished if things don’t go as you hoped?
The sabbatical is increasingly a thing of the past in academia, mostly because fewer than 30% of college faculty have jobs that are ever sabbatical-eligible. Conceptually, though, the sabbatical is the right idea, and it should not only apply to academics.
A sabbatical is not a vacation. It is not an excuse to loll around doing nothing, counting the days before you have to get back to the grind. A sabbatical is a respite from work by doing other work.
A sabbatical is a breather, a chance to gain perspective thatwould be otherwise unavailable without this different experience. The idea is to return to the original position not rested, per se, so much as refreshed, eager to return to the original place with a new outlook, a new set of knowledge.
Done well, a sabbatical improves overall performance and extends our period of productivity.
For now, though, back to the treadmill, everyone. Keep running as if your life depends on it because it probably does.