How I Accidentally Structured My Life Like a 1950s Executive
On Airport Meltdowns, Invisible Labour, and What Happens When the Help Disappears
I'm really not great at being that person who works on a plane.
I actually resent it. Or at least the ‘should’ behind it. Probably because I find the whole process of maneuvering through airports stressful, so my body literally crashes when I get to my seat and all those best-laid plans of getting work done fall by the wayside.
Not to be confused with a fear of flying. I truly couldn't care less about the flying part. It's the catalogue of tasks to complete just to get there. Like 2 hours on the Krypton Factor with no prize money. Getting to your gate unharmed and unhinged is the best you can hope for.
I honestly believe airports are designed to showcase people at their very worst. Me included. I'm that woman who's going to have words with a stranger for doing something I deem discourteous or impatient. I will essentially mirror back to them the kind of know-it-all, couldn't-give-a-damn-who-you-are bravado that I despised so much in them to begin with.
There's absolutely no denying that this shift happened after having a child and has been climbing ever since. I never used to hate airports, I used to really enjoy the whole shebang. Now I find it exhausting, probably more when traveling alone than with family. Like I'm on high alert with no backup.
But here I am writing this newsletter on a plane.
Now, before you call BS on my previous 300-or-so words, let me clarify: I'm writing it because I'm procrastinating.
I've got so much to do that I'm off to light up my pleasure sensors with the joy of my own sarcasm and real-life drama rather than doing the stuff I don't want to do but really must get on with. But because I'm writing my newsletter, I can still claim to be busy, you see. I can still tell myself and others about just how productive my flight was.
The Never-Ending Thread
Here's what I've realized: when you work independently, there are no clear boundaries. No one tells me to ‘clock in’ but no one ever tells me to ‘clock out’ either. I'm responsible for my work hours and how I manage my time. The only expectation is ensuring things get done, which isn't a great line for me to work within, because it's not a line at all. It's a never-ending thread.
It's never giving myself permission to take a day off outside of standard-issue weekends (assuming I'm not working them anyway). It's never taking time back because if I don't work a typical 9-5 day, then what is there to take back anyway? Which is ridiculous because I also get really hung up on my ‘office hours’ and being available throughout the day for people.
This is why I've had somewhat of a meltdown the last few weeks as I've realized my daughter's school schedule is not compatible with work and life. You're probably wondering (and rightly so) how this could have possibly passed me by. Like, at what point had I not acknowledged that school finished at 3pm and someone would need to be there to pick her up?
I know this sounds ridiculous, like seriously Claire, did you forget you were a parent? Well, no. No, I didn't.
Working Like a Man
What I realized was that I've been incredibly lucky in China and Hong Kong to have the home help necessary to work like a *man*.
To be late. To go back to the office after school pickup. To have your evening meal prepared for you most days. To schedule your social events first and ask questions later. To trust that someone else has ensured the homework is done, the uniform is washed, and everyone has had a fair attempt at a balanced diet throughout the day.
Now, before anyone gets their knickers in a twist—this isn't a male-bashing exercise. I know plenty of men who are brilliant, hands-on partners and fathers who share the load equally (or more). My own husband is (sometimes) one of them. This isn't about men versus women or who does more.
This is about my experience and my life. It's about the fact that I had unconsciously structured my work around having domestic support that allowed me to operate without the constant mental juggling act that many working parents, regardless of gender, know all too well. I'm calling it ‘working like a man’ because, historically, that's how traditional work structures were designed: around having someone else handle the home front.
I also understand what a privilege it is to have had help at all. I wake up every morning and thank my lucky stars that this life has blessed me with the opportunity to hire help. And for that help to have very much been a part of my family and a crucial part of my daughters life. A whatsapp call with my sister back in Derbyshire is a weekly reminder of that. I don’t need telling twice.
Back to the story - Now I'm not mad because of the job list. I'm mad because these tasks are getting in the way of spending quality time with my daughter and husband.
Because from 2:30pm to 8:30pm, I'm frazzled, distracted, and attempting to multitask. I put my daughter to bed and, despite her requests for me to lie with her, I tell her I have work to do and potter back off upstairs to open the laptop and get back to it. By which point, what I'd planned to do is blown out of the water by emails, WeChat messages, and WhatsApp group threads.
The Invisible Load
This is the thing about the invisible load of working motherhood that we don't talk about enough: it's not just the tasks themselves. It's the mental bandwidth they consume. It's the guilt that seeps in when you're trying to focus on work but know there's a million other things that need doing. It's the way your attention fractures into a thousand pieces throughout the day. I thought about getting a meal delivery service, or something like Gousto, AND at the same time, have not had the time to sort it.
When we had help in Shanghai and Hong Kong, I could focus. Really focus. The way my male colleagues focus when they go to work each day, knowing someone else is handling the domestic coordination. I could stay late for meetings without calculating pickup times. I could travel for work without creating a military operation of childcare coverage and obliterating my husband's desire to see other humans, go to the gym or maybe even just a pint.
I didn't realize how much this setup allowed me to operate in work mode the way men traditionally have, with someone else handling the home front.
Finding the Balance
So here I am, flying home after being away for 6 days, traveling through 3 cities, taking 3 flights, 2 trains, and many taxis, having worked all weekend. Writing this newsletter instead of doing the "important" tasks on my list.
And you know what? Maybe that's okay.
Maybe the real work of leadership isn't always the items on our to-do lists. Maybe sometimes it's taking a moment to process, to write, to think about what's really happening in our lives and our work. (Journalling is also on my to-do list of expectations afterall!). Maybe it's giving ourselves permission to name the things that are hard instead of pushing through with relentless productivity. But it’s still okay if me naming them makes you feel uncomfortable. That’s something curious to sit with.
The truth is, I'm still figuring out how to work effectively in my new reality. How to be present for my family without sacrificing my professional ambitions. How to manage the never-ending thread of entrepreneurial work while also being the primary parent available for pickup, homework, and bedtime stories.
I don't have the answers yet. But I'm learning to be okay with that.
Take a moment this month to reflect:
What invisible labor are you carrying that others might not see?
Where in your life have you been ‘working like a man’ without realizing the support system that made it possible?
How can you give yourself permission to acknowledge when things are hard instead of pushing through with endless productivity?
Here's to honest conversations, procrastination that leads to clarity, and the ongoing work of figuring out how to do it all (spoiler alert: we can't, and that's okay).
Warmly,
Claire