While my better half is jetting off to Morocco for ten days in August to soak up some sun and inhale excessive amounts of couscous, I will have the joy and pleasure (yes, both) of spending time at the office, sunning as much as possible during lunch on the roof terrace. After two rounds of denied vacation requests so far since April, I have resorted to requesting the last four days of my current rotation off before starting in my next (and final!) seat before qualification in early 2015. Surprise, surprise, my four days off have been approved (third time’s a charm or something like that).
While I will bitch and moan until the cows come home about my denied vacation requests, I shall appropriately label this another one of my
Every year, I have 25 whole, glorious days of paid vacation (when it is granted by the magical vacation-hating supervising attorney fairy). When I first started working in Europe (first in Paris, then in London) on full-time contracts, the concept of continuing to be paid while I jet off on holiday seemed foreign, wonderous and basically the best possible thing in the whole wide world (cue image of me lounging on a beach with a large fruity cocktail while money cha-ching is deposited into my account as if I had been really working).
I am not going to lie. It still feels like that. Every. Single. Time.
However, every year is a delicate dance around senior lawyers’ vacation plans, busy periods and huge transaction timetables. And as I am currently on the lower end (i.e., very bottom) of the totem pole of power, my vacations do not take priority (woe is me). As vacation is my
contractual human right, I refuse to let this summer go by chained to my desk. It just so happens that between two weekends and a bank holiday are four perfectly primed days for me to take at the end of August, during which I shall plan a splendidly wonderful staycation in London all by my lonesome while everyone else is at work in Ibiza.
More to come on planning a fantastically glorious staycation in London (or anywhere in zee world)!!
Full disclosure: I should probably mention that while this is a very serious #firstworldproblem, I am taking 11 working days off in November to jet off to Washington D.C. to be one of my bestie’s demoiselle d’honneur (bridesmaid for you non-Francophones) and to Wisconsin (the love of cheese is instilled from birth). Oh, and a day or two off in September to jet to NYC for a bachelorette party… so #firstworldproblem is really the best and only way to describe such complaints.