Has the Leprechaun Left the Building or Can You Still Laugh with Coworkers

There was a wild colonial boy
Jack Duggan was his name
He was born and raised in Ireland
In a house called Castlemaine
He was his father’s only son
His mothers pride and joy
And dearly did his parents love
That wild colonial boy.

That wild colonial boy now has a career!

During my working life, I remember a kind of biorhythm thing that went on each week. It seemed like certain days were dreary and hard to get through, and some days most everything improved. I was not depressed, just locked into the job and at times, we were all under the gun and it could be stressful. But it did occur to me that my feeling for each day was very personal, it was about my attitude and my mood. 

I remember working in Chicago on the Northwest side where my office was on the second floor in what people would call a mid-century modern building. Many coworkers worked alongside each other. I had a great spot close the windows. My view was both good and bad, beautiful and ugly--it depended upon where you looked. 

On some days, as I came into the office, I headed for an escalator that took me up to the second floor. But I noticed that on my good days, I bounded up the stairs instead. I also found myself with such enthusiasm that I smiled and greeted coworkers. My greeting announced my presence for the day. Eventually, I got to the point where I would prance down the aisle and tell people “it’s a great day for the Irish.”

Sure, I was Irish through and through, but a little removed by distance.  But I had grown up on the South Side of Chicago in a neighborhood with many Irish families. It's still the home of the Chicago South Side Irish Parade, minutes away from Chicago Gaelic Park, and home to a myriad of Irish cultural institutions not the least of which are a bevy of Irish neighborhood bars. 

But Chicago is a diverse city and I am not sure if all my co-workers appreciated the Irish thing. Yet, I sensed at least some amusement on my coworkers' part even if they were not Irish. So at least it was harmless. Yes, I was enthusiastic, and yes, I loved my job.

When I started to think about it more and more, I noticed that my “great day for the Irish” was for the most part on Wednesday. Sure, like most people, I appreciated Fridays and suffered through Mondays, but there was a certain joy that came to me each Wednesday—hump day. Wednesday could be a day of pure joy. 

I suppose in a way, most of us had a great day each week (or some folks even a few). And these days might fall on different days, but collectively as co-workers, our honest enthusiasm could improve our lives and make work better for everyone. We shared the joy. We were happy people. We took coffee breaks and lunched in the cafeteria. We got to know each other during the work day and went home to our families each night. 

At least that’s how it was!

Something happened to the American workplace, many American workplaces, that has all but destroyed our lives at work. Many work places are deadly dull dreary places to work that are basically killing off employees by savage adherence to a corporate rules that take any real joy out of life. Millions dance to the tune of spreadsheets and worship technology. There are no boundaries to work hours.

Even at "hot job sites," ping pong tables and standing desks can't replace the close connection and love that comes from a functioning family. 

An old  friend of mine tells me that at his job, there are no great days for the Irish or anyone else. "The leprechaun has left the building."

I find that very sad.

If your place of work is decent and you can spread some joy today, please do so. There could come a time when it is impossible. When you find yourself at the total mercy of your employer and every spare minute of your day is about your work. 

Lawrence Norris is the author of an honest book called  The Brown and White.