Insights

The Secret Museum Director: My guilt over time off, and year-end musings

Advisor’s anonymous Museum Director documents their thoughts and experiences in the sector.

Every year when I start a new diary (I am old fashioned enough to keep a paper diary), I number the weeks of the year on the calendar pages at the front. I mark out that progression from 1 to 52 and highlight school holidays, exhibition openings and – always in pencil – any potential holidays, which feels like a taking of control.

The whole year is ahead of me, and with pen, highlighter and post-it notes, I will conquer it. It is an illusion of control that usually lasts until about mid-April. The days then speed up, and whole months disappear at such an unfathomable pace that before I know it, it is November, and Christmas, and another new year is staring me in the face.

As the remaining weeks count down, I balance the achievements of the year against the still-to-dos and work out what the deficit is – and it is always a deficit.

In that delicate weighing up of debits and credits, there is always something that just couldn’t be done, the project that didn’t fulfil expectations, the teams that are going a little bit awry.

It’s also “use it or lose it” time, and I have got two luxurious weeks off over Christmas. I’m not very good at taking time off. I had a week off earlier this year, and came back with so much to do, and so much to catch up on, that any illusion of rest and relaxation evaporated within 15 minutes of walking through the door. This has made me uneasy about the upcoming break.

I know just how awful people can be over the “season of goodwill” and have an underlying anxiety that I won’t be there, both to share the burden, and be someone to escalate to if required.

Even before I leave, I am wondering exactly what I will come back to. I also feel guilt. Christmas is one of our busiest times of the year, when visitors’ expectations are at their most highly charged.

I know just how awful people can be over the “season of goodwill” and have an underlying anxiety that I won’t be there, both to share the burden, and be someone to escalate to if required.

I am painfully aware that all too often it is our front of house teams who have to deal with poor planning from siloed programming and curatorial teams, and so I fret: is everyone on board? Have all the right briefing packs been circulated? Etc, etc, etc.

But, take my annual leave I must. Isn’t there a cliché somewhere that the more you think you can’t go on holiday, the more you need to go on holiday? Despite all my moaning about my return from an earlier break, the place had functioned perfectly well without me; operations ticked on smoothly and those issues that raised their head were dealt with perfectly competently.

I’m working hard, in fact, to get to the point where I am utterly dispensable for two weeks. I will sign everything that needs signing, say yes to everything that needs saying yes to before I leave, and everything will go on, as normal, although the chocolate biscuit stocks will probably be far higher without my coffee break predations.

So, I intend to have a good rest before the next diary opens, and new challenges begin. I will say a huge ‘thank you’ for hard work and good company over the past year, then I will shut the laptop and delete Outlook from my phone, ready to eat as many chocolates and read as many books as possible. And then…bring on 2024.