The holiday test

Recently I told a client and a colleague that I will be doing a little work during my holiday this summer, to finish the new MyDrives app. They both reacted the same way: don’t do it, enjoy your holiday, take care of yourself. And the honest story: I am looking forward to it, and it costs me no effort at all.

That concern is justified. Usually.

I understand the reaction. For many people work is something to recover from, and anyone close to burnout really should not “do a little work”. Then take care of yourself is the best advice there is.

But underneath that warning sits an assumption: work costs energy, holiday gives energy.

That assumption is not true for everyone. This project gives me energy. Not everything I do, honestly not. But this does.

How do you know which side you are on?

Hobby, work, passion

Something you love doing that earns you nothing, we call a hobby.

Something you do because it pays a salary, we call work.

But work you would also do if it earned you nothing? That is passion.

From the outside you cannot see the difference. It sits underneath.

And here is the beautiful part: you do not need an assessment to know where your work stands. Your holiday will tell you. There the obligation falls away, and whatever you still keep doing, or notice you miss, is what you do naturally.

That is the holiday test. Not a questionnaire, but two weeks of distance.

What you miss tells you who you are

Behaviour you can see. Drivers you cannot. Two people work through their holiday: one cannot let go, the other gets energy from the project. Two people close the laptop for two weeks: one recharges, the other dreads Monday a little more every day.

So the question is not whether you work during your holiday. The question is what the distance makes visible.

What do you miss, now that nothing is required? One person misses the building, another the people, another the puzzling and the organising. Those are not coincidences. Those are patterns, and beneath those patterns lie drivers.

And what you do not miss is just as valuable. Dreading the first day back is not weakness, it is information.

By the way: whoever lets go of everything on holiday does not have a smaller passion. Some people naturally recharge by stepping out completely. The test is not about working through, but about noticing: what happens to you when nothing is required?

The test, for yourself and for your people

Are you still heading off? Take one question with you: would I also do this work if it earned me nothing? You do not have to decide anything. Just notice what the answer does to you.

Do you work in HR, or do you coach people? Then September is your moment. Everyone comes back with two weeks of distance behind them, and some quietly made a decision at the campsite. In that first conversation, do not only ask how the holiday was. Ask what someone missed. And what they did not.

Those answers are not a verdict, but information. Whoever missed nothing deserves a real conversation instead of a form. That way September is not a risk month, but the most honest measuring moment of the year.

The holiday test in short

• A hobby is something you love doing, even though it earns you nothing.
• Work is something you do because it pays.
• Passion is work you would also do if it earned you nothing.
• The test: notice on holiday what you miss and what you dread. Those are your drivers.
• For HR and coaches: in September, do not ask how the holiday was, but what someone missed. And what they did not.

And that client and that colleague? They will simply be proven right: I really will be lying on the beach. But those few hours on the app? That is exactly what they wished me: taking care of myself.

Would you like to know what sits beneath your own waterline? The free Miniscan gives you a first picture of your drivers in five minutes. And if you want to put this to work with your team or organisation before September, book an introduction. We will think along with you.

Enjoy your holiday. And pay a little attention to what you miss.