
Image via House of Cards/Netflix
I took a seat. There were only two people in the room – an older woman and a younger woman. The younger woman sat with her eyes closed, even when she spoke. The older woman read a preamble about curing oneself of ‘compulsive working’.
She had a smartphone on her lap so a fellow sufferer could listen in, possibly with the very same conference-call software he used to feed his filthy habit. After the preamble, we introduced ourselves in the clichéd AA way:
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‘Hi, I’m Suchandsuch, and I’m a workaholic,’ said the young woman with the closed eyes. ‘And today I feel grateful for arriving on time.’ The reason for this statement became clear 15 minutes later, when a couple of other workaholics straggled in and took a seat.
Next was ‘the sharing’, and this was where the meeting became more than just a bit of anonymous fun. The workaholics spoke one by one, and common themes emerged. They were all intensely focused on their work and had trouble disengaging or relaxing.
They scheduled every part of their day – even on holidays – and suffered from paralysing perfectionism. They’d grown up with absent fathers who’d worked long hours.
Got me again. (Post continues after gallery.)
Our favourite on screen control freaks
Looking back at my childhood, I saw my dad sitting alone at the kitchen table punching numbers into a calculator, a big binder of documents beside him. The wart in the middle of his forehead is squeezed between his eyebrows.