Thoughts of a workaholic friend

This week I chanced to meet a friend who I'd not seen in several months. I'd first met Al (not his real name) over 30 years ago and had continuing contacts with him till a couple years back. Throughout our relationship I'd often heard him talk about his work. He'd been an industrial manager as well as being active in civic and local circles. It wasn't until he retired that I learned of his obsession with work. He was proud of his never taking a day off for nearly all his career. His schedule had him on the job from before daylight, often till late in the evenings and 7-day weeks were the norm. His job was his life and he never had his attention far from his work. Fortunately, his efforts were rewarded with a good income. However, he never had time to enjoy it or share with his family. Al was not unique; most of his family were viewed as hard workers. Sadly, with the completion of his employment he found his life empty. He sought fulfillment, but seemed to be missing something. Then, just a short time after he left employment, his health, which had always been excellent, failed him. Strokes and other illnesses reduced him to a shadow of his former self. The man I'd known was nothing like person I just saw. Without his employment he seemed to lose his sense of purpose and appeared to have a emptiness about him. Al's physical decline seemed to echo the weakening of his spirit. My encounter with him left me wondering about the worth of his life decisions. Did the nearly obsessive approach he'd had to his work steal his life-force that should have assured him a happy and lengthy retirement?