We’re sitting at the same table. The conversation continues; the child is telling us something, and then the phone rings. A business message has come in.
We glance at it for a moment. We reply briefly, convinced we haven’t interrupted the conversation. We’re still at the table, but the conversation has continued without us.
Constant availability makes it harder to carve out work time without encroaching on the time we spend with the people we live with.
We’ve gotten used to treating every message as urgent, believing that every call deserves a response and that constant availability is a sign of responsibility.
Work has entered the living room, the family table, our downtime, and even our sleep. It didn’t have to knock. We opened the door ourselves.
While we respond to people who can wait, we often fail to hear those who have been waiting specifically for us. One day, we won’t remember the message we replied to immediately.
But someone might remember that we weren’t there when they were telling us something important.
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