Guppies at
work are bored a lot. Boredom leads to drowsiness, and
drowsiness leads to naps. Since management generally
disapproves of sleeping on the job, Guppies must develop
good clandestine napping skills to get the rest they need to
be sharp and alert after work when their real day begins.
Napping is about equal parts art and craft; the art you are
born with, but the craft can be learned. Here, then, are
the basic principles for the craft of napping:
Achieve a Stable Posture
This is the first principle of napping on the job. Part of
the great attraction to napping is the relaxation response
that occurs when all of your muscles let go as you drift
peacefully off into the arms of Morpheus. But when this
happens, unless you are either lying down or are in a
structurally sound position with bones bracing and
supporting your body parts, you are likely to experience
some sort of collapse. Nothing detracts from a good nap
more than falling out of your chair, or dashing your face
painfully into the keyboard--both considered extremely poor
form, by the way.
To prevent these sorts of embarrassing disasters, learn to
use triangles in your nap postures. The triangle and its
relative the pyramid are the strongest, most stable of the
geometric shapes; if you ensure that your head and upper
body are supported by triangles, you can snooze for hours in
rock-solid security. There are many triangular
postures--some quite daring and exotic and recommended for
experienced nappers only--but the most basic is the old
chin-in-the-hands position: lean forward, place your elbows
on the desk at about shoulder width, and place your chin on
the joined heels of your two hands with the fingers resting
comfortably on each cheek. Your face should point to your
terminal, as if you are studying something intently on the
screen. This is a tried-and-true technique and, if other
conditions are right, will give you many hours of peaceful
slumber.
Select the Napping Site Carefully
It is perfectly acceptable to sleep at your desk if you have
a modest amount of privacy from bosses or nosey passersby,
but if your desk is exposed, you may have to select another
nap site.
Bathrooms are good for naps, but sitting on a commode for
long periods tends to make your legs fall asleep. The
danger is that the company will call a surprise fire drill
and you will have to be carried out of the building.
Sleeping in the bathroom also can be hazardous if you tend
toward hemorrhoids. I once worked with a man who spent at
least four hours of every work day locked in a stall in the
bathroom, sound asleep. He complained a lot about
hemorrhoids, and we speculated that he used them for a
snooze alarm. The theory was that he sat on the commode and
slept until his hemorrhoids hit the water; the shock would
wake him up so he could return to his desk for a while until
the next nap attack struck.
Have Explanations Handy
Sooner or later, somebody is going to catch you napping.
When that happens, it helps--particulary if the catcher is a
boss--to have a plausible explanation ready. If all else
fails, claim narcolepsy.
Great Nappers I Have Known
In my thirty years as a Guppie, I've had the opportunity to
observe many nappers and their techniques. Three stand out
in my memory for their creativity and style.
Leroy
Leroy and I shared a cube in a secure area that was
protected by a locked door, so surprise visits from the boss
were not a problem. A couple of illustrators worked in the
cube next to ours, and they insisted that the overhead
lights be kept off because reflections on their CAD screens
gave them headaches.
It was nap heaven.
I drifted peacefully in and out of consciousness for
several days, delighted and well-rested in my new
surroundings, before a curious sound intruded to disturb my
naps. I began to notice that every few minutes a short beep
sounded. It wasn't loud, but it was like a leaky faucet--I
couldn't sleep for thinking about it. At first I was
mystified; I thought the illustrators must be doing it, but
I soon discovered that it came from Leroy's direction. I
turned around quietly (we sat back-to-back) and watched him.
He seemed to be working. He was leaning back in his chair,
his left hand supporting his chin in a good napping
position, but his right hand was on the keyboard and he
seemed to be scrolling up through a file looking for
something. Suddenly, the scrolling stopped at the top of
the file, and the terminal emitted the offending beep.
Leroy, as if treated to an electric shock, immediately
roused up and took a quick look around to ensure nobody had
sneaked up on him. He then placed his finger on the right
arrow key and began scrolling back down through the file
while he went back to sleep. When it hit the end of the
file, it beeped again, rousing Leroy for another quick
perimeter check before he reversed the process again. He
spent all day scrolling up and down through the same
document and getting lots of rest.
Harvey
I shared an office with Harvey back in the days before
computers, when we wrote everything by hand on yellow legal
pads. He was the best napper I've ever seen; he was always
on the verge of taking one. He took a morning nap, and an
afternoon nap, and during lunch he put his head down on the
desk and took a lunch nap. To Harvey, napping was a devine
right. He made little effort to conceal it when he felt the
urge to doze. I've seen him sit reared back in his office
chair, arms hanging straight down on either side almost to
the floor, head lolled back so that he faced the ceiling,
slack jawed, mouth open, snoring like a dirt bike, and not
giving a damn who walked by and saw him. The man was a
master.
But for his most entertaining nap sessions, Harvey used
the bobbing-for-apples technique. I can close my eyes
and--if I don't fall asleep--I can still see him: He sits
hunched over his desk, pencil touching the pad of paper
before him. Slowly his head begins to sink. At first it is
a slow, gradual lowering, as if he is trying to get closer
to what he is writing. But the lower he goes, the more
speed he picks up. Finally, after he has attained terminal
velocity, lowering his forehead toward the desk at a
frightening speed, he suddenly snaps to a stop and pops back
up. But he doesn't recover quite as far as his starting
position. He starts another descent, and, like a bouncing
ball, each bounce is a little lower in amplitude than the
one before. Miraculously, he never descends to the point
where his head bumps the desk. At the end, when the bounces
have died out, he is sitting with his forehead about three
inches above the pad, sound asleep. He starts to snore.
Richard
I shared a cube with Richard right after he retired from the
service. His great napping talent was his ability to fall
asleep in the middle of a conversation. He loved to talk
and tell war stories, so he usually initiated the bullshit
sessions. But after he had told his story, and it was your
turn to respond with one of your own, he would sit and look
you right in the eye and smile and nod as if he were
following what you were saying, but his lids would droop and
finally close completely. All you could do was stop
talking, turn back to your desk and go back to work. After
a while, he would wake up and, as if nothing had happened,
start telling another war story. I heard later that he was
diagnosed with narcolepsy, but it was damned disconcerting
to watch him fall asleep while looking you right in the eye.
