Your manager may not care if you're happy, but somebody does.

It's The Washington Post. Why else would they publish articles, like "To boost happiness, treat your weekend like a vacation" by Tara Parker-Pope?

I hope the idea of blissful weekends brings joy to the Washington Posties, because it sure isn't my concept of a happy work life. If you want to be happy, it isn't the weekend you should treat as a vacation; it's the workweek. I'm sure you agree. Having a beach day at the office and getting paid for it: that's happiness.

Of course, if you are one of the poor unfortunates who actually has to work at work, Parker-Pope's article may be more appealing than appalling. And she does have an interesting experiment to back her up.

In 2020, before an unexceptional weekend in spring, researchers at the UCLA Anderson School of Management gave one-half of a group of 441 workers this six-word instruction: "Treat this weekend like a vacation."

The other half received no such direction. They were left to do their to-do lists, whether that included spackling the dog, wallpapering the children or just couch surfing for two blissfully lazy days. (Yes, I know that dividing a group of 441 people in half leaves one extra person. Maybe the leftover treated Saturday as a vacation day and Sunday as a not-a-vacation day. Or maybe they spent the entire weekend in bed. You could hardly blame them.)

The results of the experiment were striking.

"When people returned to work Monday," Parker-Pope writes, "those who spent the weekend like vacationers reported more happiness, less negativity and more satisfaction than those who approached the weekend like they always did."

While the happiness quotient of the vacationers does sound positive, it's actually quite risky. Arriving at work on a Monday, floating on a cloud of joy, weakens your natural defense mechanisms, leaving you vulnerable to feral managers ready to wipe your happy face off the org chart at the drop of a deadline. As a non-vacationer, you would arrive Monday bursting with paranoia and resentment, as usual; these vital workplace defense systems protect you from potential threats to your continuing employment.

Want to test the weekend vacation concept for yourself? A six-word mantra won't cut it. Here are five steps sure to put yourself in vacation mode when Friday rolls around.

No. 1: Pack your bags

You'll only be gone for two days, but you'll want to pack for two weeks. Jam your suitcases with scuba gear, water skis, golf clubs and pickleball paddles. Be sure to follow all TSA rules when packing. That means squeezing out excess toothpaste and leaving your accordion at home. The threat of a passenger taking out an accordion and playing "Lady of Spain" during takeoff is high on the list of in-flight threats.

No. 2: Get into a traffic jam

The problem with going on vacation is the "going" part. Your ultimate destination may be dreamy, but dealing with planes, trains and automobiles these days is nothing but a nightmare. By inserting yourself into the nearest traffic jam you will instantly channel all the frustration and aggravation that inevitably starts every vacation. If you can't find a traffic jam, get yourself to the nearest airport and wait for two or 10 hours, at which point you can declare your flight canceled and go home.

No. 3: Tip your partner

No one likes to vacation alone. If your nearest and dearest doesn't want to be your partner on a fantasy vacation weekend, treat them as staff. Complain bitterly when nonstop pina coladas and pu-pu platters do not appear, or when the lavish breakfast buffet turns out to be a piece of burned toast.

No. 4: Pay resort fees

It's not a real vacation unless you are made to pay outrageous fees for activities and amenities you never used. You wouldn't go to a cheesy resort, so calculate $150 a day. That's $300 for your weekend. Take the money in cash and push it into the garbage disposal.

No. 5: Get deathly ill

Nothing says vacation like the weird bug you picked up trying to have an authentic local experience. If you can't find exotic street food to eat, or a polluted waterway to swim in, treat yourself to all the leftover food in the office refrigerator at the end of the day on Friday.

Eat modestly or you might find your fantasy weekend vacation turn into a real weekend vacation: an all-expense trip to the emergency room.

Bob Goldman was an advertising executive at a Fortune 500 company. He offers a virtual shoulder to cry on at [email protected]. To find out more about Bob Goldman and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: romaneau at Pixabay