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Which party will deliver a workers’ bill of rights?

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I know it wasn’t this way for my parents.

When Dad came home at the end of the day, it was the end of the day.

He put his briefcase down, hung up his coat, made a cocktail for himself and one for my mother. Mom slipped out of her office like a toddler doffing their shirt beside a backyard pool: it fell to the ground and lay there wrinkled on the grass, completely forgotten while she swam in life.

They’d talk about their day while dinner cooked, and Dad might do some work, collating computer index cards for research he was working on or reading scientific papers.

But there were no cellphones, the hall telephone rang rarely and it was never work calling. They had time to read books. To walk the dog. To relax. To sit in the same room and talk.

Email didn’t exist yet, and your boss owned exactly the amount of time that they paid for. You weren’t balancing work and life, because they were two different, distinct things. You didn’t spend the weekend thinking about Monday’s column, answering emails and........

© The Telegram