Nov 17, 2023 4 min read

Our work email has a feature that allows us to set an automatic out-of-office response to incoming mail. That way, when we’re away from work, those who are reaching out will know when we’ll be back and able to respond.

To get ready for my two days off last week to visit my daughter and her husband in New York, I logged into email to create the message. A calendar popped up, I selected the leaving and return dates of Nov. 14 and 16, wrote a short few words about being away and thanks for your patience, and clicked to activate. I signed off and headed up the highway, secure in knowing anyone sending questions or requests would know I was not ignoring them, and to please wait until I was back in the saddle.

I was in my hotel the first night of my short vacation, when my phone chirped with a texted warning from my boss.

“Your out-of-office message says you’re away and will return on February 22,” he wrote.

Wait … what?? How did that happen? I’d set the message for a two-day absence and somehow the computer and the app had conspired to ship me off on a three-month getaway.

Not that that would be a bad thing. As I scrambled right then to log into work email on my phone to correct the error, my mind wandered to the possibilities of a three-month break. Twelve weeks. Ninety days. What would that be like?

Seeing as I’m careening toward 65, it would be like retirement, I suppose. I like my job every day and love it many days, and I’m not looking to stop. Giving thought to how I’d fill three months spilled my imagination over into how I’d fill all of my months as a retired person.

I hope to have grandkids someday, but in the meantime, I’d take bike trips when the weather’s right, but that leaves the cold four or five months when I don’t ride. I would read, play piano, keep learning guitar, join an indoor pool, travel, volunteer somewhere, keep writing. Would all of that fill even a month away?

By the time I found out about the error, news of my extended and generous leave of absence was already making its way around the office and my contacts outside the office. Yikes, the messages:

I understand you’re away through February! Let’s catch up about the project when you’re back.

Hope you’re headed somewhere warm for the winter!

Hoping all’s well and that’s you’ll be back in the new year.

All of that concern and bon voyaging for a 48-hour getaway. I began to worry that connections I’d made about my new documentary productions would turn away, believing I’d be gone for so long. As soon as I got home, I started my correction tour, circling back to all who’d reached out.

“Sorry for the mixup. I’m back,” said my new message.

Not only was I back in time for work last Thursday, I will be right here at my desk all winter (with a week off at Christmas): working through the early dark evenings of December and the snow of January and the blah gray of February. I’m not going much of anywhere.

It was a nice thought, though. When my boss’ text first arrived, I was worried about missing something important. But after I’d set the record straight, I thought about how weird and funny that mistake was, and got back to him.

“Yep,” I said. “‘I’ll see you in February, lol.”