It is the evening of December 27. For the past few days, I have done almost nothing (except for the wishes, which may be a job in itself). December 24, 25 and 26 slipped by quietly. The 27th was technically a working day, but I took it off anyway. It was unplanned, but necessary.
January is already looming, full of commitments that are starting to generate a familiar kind of anxiety. When many things are close, but not urgent yet, my first reaction is often procrastination. At the same time, I keep reading about “9-9-6 weeks” (nine to nine six days per week), about companies pushing relentlessly, about growth at all costs, about ambitious plans for the new year. The world is a rat race and I feel guilty for those few days of pause. For these days, and even for the ones before them.
It hardly matters that this is supposed to be a time for rest, for family, for drinks, for long conversations with relatives, for simply being with my people. The guilt is still there. Maybe it is not the only feeling, but it sits underneath many of the others.
I tried to answer that feeling by thinking long-term. A system that only works when you never stop is not a sustainable system. It is just a fragile one that looks efficient until it breaks.
When people ask me about business models, they often expect a familiar narrative. Unicorns, startups growing 20% month over month, exits, fast curves and even faster stories. Instead, I tell them about a law firm, Bird & Bird, which has grown for thirty-three consecutive years, and is still growing. Not spectacular. Not loud. But durable. And to me, most impressive than many stories on media.
So yes, I took a few days off. Yes, I did less than I “could have”. And yes, the guilt showed up, as it often does. But growth is rarely what happens in the noisiest weeks. It is what survives over time.
Long live the holidays.
Long live the long term.
