“I’m not even supposed to be here today” I suppose that it is appropriate as a member of Gen-X that I think about this line from Clerks from time to time. Dante, an employee of Quick Stop Groceries, is...

“I’m not even supposed to be here today”

I suppose that it is appropriate as a member of Gen-X that I think about this line from Clerks from time to time. Dante, an employee of Quick Stop Groceries, is called in to work on his day off and is plagued by disasters. His state of “being there (at work)” is clearly distinct from his outside life (though this is debatable throughout the film). The collapse of these states was endemic for many during the COVID-19 lockdown, but has plagued academics, in the form of a lack of work/life balance.

I wonder about this occasionally, as I wander through a museum on my day off, read archaeology books or listen to science podcasts, or, at the worst of times, fielding queries about research or teaching at all hours. To be honest, I think my place of work is…pretty good about that. We try not to send emails outside of working hours, we are heavily encouraged to take time off, and we have a “quiet month” during the summer where no meetings are scheduled.

But it’s still not always as clear as Dante’s job at the Quick Stop, particularly with parenting or other care responsibilities. Gökçe Günel, Saiba Varma and Chika Watanabe discuss a “patchwork ethnography” wherein separations between “field” and “home” are not possible or even desirable for anthropologists, and emphasise ways to “acknowledge and accommodate how researchers’ lives in their full complexity shape knowledge production.” This resonated with me in many ways.

It’s no secret that I have been bringing my daughter on fieldwork since she was very small–I often joke that she has been published in Nature before me, and I draw a lot of inspiration from her, in her observations, her gait, her propensity towards caches of seemingly miscellaneous things. It’s also been helpful to learn more broadly about youth autonomy and ageism–after all, solidarity begins at home.

As she’s grown, she’s able to steer the ship a bit more (okay, a lot more) and she’d often prefer to be left at home or with her grandparents when we go on “adventures.” But there are times she will need to come along to walk across a sandy plain to look at small pieces of broken pottery on the ground, like today. She helped by carrying the photo scale, emptied out bags of pottery for us to examine and scratched mysterious symbols on potential sites. She got hot and a bit grumpy and we were all reminded to drink water, wear sunscreen and not forget our hats! We went to the Hili playpark afterwards, and all was well.

Still, there’s a marked difference between directing a site with her around, and by myself. Though she made an early appearance at Southampton TAG, going to a conference alone means that I can see all the things, meet with all the people, and drink all the beer. I also struggle to write while she’s at home–needing a room of my own is a real thing.

So, moving from “I’m not even supposed to be here today” through “trying for a work/life balance” to a “patchwork archaeology” where we accommodate, include, and respect each other as we move through life is a hopeful goal. It’s not for everyone, but I’ve been trying to live a more integrated life. It has its own pleasures, but it’s hard to get used to seeing others outpace my publication rate. I understand that it’s a privileged position to be in, and I’d hope there is more autonomy for everyone, to be as they’d like.

But…do I retain today as annual leave, even though I figured out where to lay out trenches for the 2024 excavations? As I type this blog post? As I text a friend/colleague about an upcoming meeting? Insert a Gen-X-appropriate shrug emoji here please.

Answers on a culturally-appropriate holiday greeting card are appreciated!

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