Monday gets a bad rap, but Tuesday is the real problem.

Hear me out. On Monday, you have the energy of the weekend in your sails. On Monday, you are generally well-rested. On Monday, people are still asking you, “how was your weekend?” and you have stories to tell.

By Tuesday, you are cozying up to that second cup of coffee like it’s the fountain of youth. You have not even reached the halfway point of the week. No one asks, “how was your Monday evening?“

I have posited this position many times and found counter-arguments underwhelming. But then recently, I faced a new version of this and was genuinely stumped.

The quandary: let’s say you’re permitted to work a 4-day week. What day do you choose off?

My sister and I debated this last night while stuck in a 50-minute, real-life version of one of our favorite childhood games, Rush Hour. Consider the following:

1. Take Friday off: the obvious choice. A consistent long weekend, and Fridays are usually quiet so you’re not “missing” much.
   
2. Take Monday off. A consistent long weekend, and Fridays are usually quiet and you’re not “missing” much! But when would you get your best heads-down work done if you didn’t work Fridays?
   
3. Take Wednesday off. Two days of high quality work, take a breath and run your errands, and two more days of quality work, with the Friday quiet.

Or, as a colleague put it when we joked our way through this informal icebreaker… “then again, you could choose Thursday or Thursday, but then you’d obviously be a sociopath.”

I’m curious: what would you choose?

Related: other ways to make the mundane memorable // in defense of Tuesday…

Growing up in the shadow of the “Motor City,” there’s a lot of talk about cars. People come from multi-generational “[Ford/GM/Chrysler] Families,” and often have allegiances that run deep enough that you park your import vehicle brands in the street (and ideally out of sight) when Grandpa is coming over. We even frame our corporate meeting “ice breakers” in terms of cars: your first car, your favorite car, your dream car.

Recently, in a large group setting, the question was: if you were a car, what kind of car would you be? Most people answered with iconic vehicles, known for being fast, or rugged, or cool.

My answer to the group: a 2012 Ford Escape.

My rationale:

1. Ford is a deeply American brand, with its World HQ based in Dearborn, MI. I am a deeply American girl, born, raised, and established soundly in Michigan towns that no one outside of the state would know the names of.
   
2. The Escape is a well-rounded, functional SUV, small enough to zip around parking lots but large enough to carry a load; it’s marketed predominantly to women. I am feminine in that I am… you know, a female, but otherwise consider myself also very well-rounded and highly-functional in terms of physical stature and capability.
   
3. I specifically chose the 2012 model year because, while I very much like the look of the 2012 Escape, it is a far cry from current anymore. Similarly, I am – forever, and without fail – a far cry from current. I average 5 years behind any trend, as evinced by my belated entry into podcasts, excited usage of emojis long after they were old news, and delayed reaction to any fashion swings such that by the time I notice a trend, it is assuredly on its way out.

I’m curious to know: what kind of car would you be?

Last night, I attended an industry event honoring one of my clients. It was energizing in a way I never thought I’d describe a night spent away from my family, with competitive platform reps, banquet chicken, and cash bars. But the live speeches! Standing ovations! Small talk and lingering goodbyes! I was in my professional happy place.

And then the icing on the cake: the honoree gave career advice that was so thought-provoking that I paused to physically take note.

She told the story of her winding career following an impromptu move to the bay area, applying to a job that she knew nothing about other than it “sounded like a good fit for a creative,” being rejected and then bumped by HR to a different role that sounded “pretty cool, too” to her 22 year old self, and then an illustrious career with long stints in the employment of a handful of globally-recognized brand names. She never chased a specific role or level or scope, but nevertheless accrued an amazing reputation (see: ballroom filled with adoring fans) for her work, her working style, and her impact in the community. She explained some of this by following her passions while remaining authentic to herself, but also by tapping directly into the people around her with the following questions:

1. What do you come to me for?
2. When have you seen me happiest?
3. What am I better at than my peers?

As someone who is a firm believer in the Strengths Finder philosophy, I found this suggestion useful, actionable, and very likely to yield illuminating results. Rather than feel that you need to all of the introspection alone, you can lean on the perspectives of people who can vouch more objectively for how you actually show up in terms of performance and strengths.

So there you have it. A new perspective on how to scope my next career moves, and the realization that I grossly underestimated the cost of a cash bar in a big city. Not bad for life lessons on a Thursday night.