Work has been rough lately. My company is downsizing, and morale sinks lower as people walk into work every day convinced it could be their last. We stare at our computer screens and sink into our chairs, becoming more and more depressed.
It's times like this that make me feel more like an adult than ever — and that makes me long for childhood. I miss spending long December days making snowballs with my sister, sledding down hills with my dad, and eating "snow cream" that my mom drizzled with honey.
Now I'm an adult ... living in Alabama ... in the age of global warming. There's little chance of snow flurries, let alone snowball fights. But what about all the other games we'd play outside? Kids from the neighborhood were constantly riding bikes together, or playing Freeze Tag, or Kickball, or Hide and Go Seek. In school, we were led in games of Red Rover, Dodgeball, or Four Square.
I'm not the first person to wish for the playground while sitting at work. Recess-type games are used as team building exercises by companies wishing to improve morale, to varying levels of success. In the best of situations, these games can loosen up employees, both literally — actually getting people out of their un-ergonomic office chairs — and figuratively — helping people work through their problems in an unthreatening environment.
On the other hand, some experts are against Recess in the workplace, saying it can be childish and silly, making employees feel looked down upon. It can even encourage petty rivalries, just like it does on the playground.
Frankly, the way our layoffs have been handled, I don't see how a schoolyard game could be any worse. Our parent company is making decisions that seem arbitrary and unfair, like a game of Duck, Duck, Goose, or Musical Chairs. I'd welcome a break from endless meetings about layoffs for the chance to hang on the Monkey Bars for a few minutes. With all the money our higher ups are saving on salaries, maybe they could spring for a swing set.
Until that happens (and I won't be holding my breath), there are plenty of groups in Birmingham that will help me get my recess on. Take
The Birmingham Kickball League, or
Tragic City Rollers (if you've ever wanted an excuse to wear knee socks and glitter eyelashes while knocking over a girl on skates, they're your girls).
And if you're looking for a good game of frisbee, just ask my friend Heath at Crestline Starbucks, who's always looking for players in his Sunday game of Ultimate Frisbee (if you're interested, PLEASE tell him I send you ... maybe it'll get him off my back).
I'm glad these groups exist. But part of me wishes I didn't have to work so hard just to run around the park with my friends. I like going to Bottletree as much as the next young Birmingham professional with an affinity for Red Bull and Vodka, but I'm wishing for a good time that doesn't require an ID, a Facebook invite, and twenty dollars. When did sport become so organized? When did playing become so much work? Sometimes I wish it were still as easy as grabbing my jump rope and running outside.
Settle up the office pools — the wait is finally over. And the winner is ...
"That bitch Phyllis, always pushing me in the water."
"Myrtle, I don't care what these guys say. Can I please try on your flesh-colored swimsuit?"
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