I never had a regular “lunch break” until recently. Early in my career it was not by choice — in surgery training there’s really no such thing as a break, only a stolen minute or two here and there to pee or wolf down whatever food you can scrounge or nap in a chair if it’s the middle of the night and you’re on call. We did get a $5 meal coupon for the hospital cafeteria which could get you a cup of terrible coffee and a bagel drier than a bag of silica gel in the Sahara desert.
In my first job after residency, at Small HealthTech Company, I did get to eat lunch most days, which felt like a luxury compared to my previous life, but the team norms were to grab something quick and eat while continuing to work. That was the first time I experienced workday lunches in Manhattan (that could be a whole essay in itself, but let’s just say if I never wait in line to pick up an overpriced salad in a hexagon-shaped cardboard bowl, it will still be too soon). I probably could have set a boundary that I would take a true 30-minute lunch break, but I didn’t have that muscle back then.
In my next role, at Unicorn Digital Health Startup, it was more common to have lunch with colleagues in the beautiful kitchen area with the living plant wall and cold brew on tap, but I was only there for 6 weeks before the pandemic hit and we all had to eat lunch at home (and also live and work and play and do everything at home). Some days I would forget to eat lunch and then at 3 pm be like, why do I feel so horrible? Oh yes, I forgot to eat or drink or go to the bathroom (also, there’s that general crushing sense of dread from the state of the world). It was the same feeling I had in my surgical residency when I hadn’t met my basic human needs, except this time my body said no, we’re not doing this anymore, whereas in my twenties I would just power through.
When we went back to the office two days a week, I was much better about taking a break for lunch, although I still generally ate by myself at my desk while working, which on the outside seems kind of depressing, but wasn’t really. The reasons were, predictably, (1) habit (2) minor social anxiety about finding a spot in the cafeteria and having to make small talk with coworkers, and (3) still having internalized grind culture from the previous decade and a half, but there was also a new reason that was only recently uncovered, which was (4) I realized that if I was able to take a 30-minute break for myself, which I was, I would rather spend it outside walking and clearing my head, not eating lunch.
This type of boundary-setting and exercising autonomy mirrors how my general attitude towards work has shifted (and perhaps that of some industries at large, or pockets of some industries, and also that of younger generations, who seem much more hesitant to accept the notion of giving up your life and your self for a job, which is very encouraging). Although previous jobs felt much more restrictive to me, and in a capitalist society it is hard not to internalize that we have to be productive or else we’re not valuable, I also see in hindsight that at least some of my reluctance to take a break was self-imposed. Nobody ever said “you can’t take a lunch break” (except in residency), even if that was the culture. Culture tends to be more accurately reflected by what is tolerated versus what is openly stated anyway.
Fast forward a few years to now, I am working at Big Tech Company, where my employer provides lunch every day, which is nice, but perhaps more importantly, the team and company norms are to break for lunch regularly. It’s the healthiest working environment I have ever had in my career and something that I hope I never take for granted, and even then, I STILL often eat and work, but these days it feels completely voluntary and self-imposed, and I fully appreciate having options. Which is what most people want anyway, really — I think a lot of us glorified the idea of working from home before we all were forced to do it, and then we realized that it’s not so much doing our jobs from home that we liked, it was exercising agency we didn’t really know we had. What nobody likes is being told they have to work five days a week from an office. Or that they have to work five days a week from home. Or even that they have to travel to some glamorous location and work.
Anyway, one funny thing about all of this is that I laugh internally and marvel at how far I’ve come when I tell my younger greener colleagues about that $5 meal ticket to the hospital cafeteria, because I probably sound like a grizzled veteran talking about being in the literal trenches. When I was that young green person talking to older surgeons, they grumbled that my generation should be grateful to be able to leave the hospital and go home every once in a while because they used to have to live in the hospital. Everything old is new again, I guess.