Workaholism is more than a dedication to your job. It's a near-obsessive commitment that supersedes most, if not all, other aspects of life. For many, workaholism is a true addiction, inextricably tied to feelings of self worth and identity.
Había una vez un hombre que creyó hacerse a sí mismo y ser alguien con éxito, como si el objetivo de la vida fuese el fruto en el árbol del sueño americano. Pensó que el éxito era el fin del juego y que le aseguraría la salida hacia una vida libre e independiente.
At its core the Sabbath begs this question, "Do you accept that God knows what you need better than you do?" An affirmative response dictates setting aside one day in seven, not as a rigid vacation, but a time to better know God. It is a time for us and those in our care to rest.
The problem with work addiction is that many applaud the addict instead of asking if he or she needs help. This applause is the greatest high in the world and makes the addict work harder. This can be deadly.
The article is designed to make not only its readers feel bad, but also some of the CEOs included in it. Just think how awful Unilever CEO Paul Polman must have felt when he realized his 6am rising time is simply not good enough.
Revelers and roasters hit the Red Carpet for The Comedy Central Roast of James Franco with spunk and fervor recently and their target was clear: To poke fun at the eclectic Oscar nominee/filmmaker/artist/Yale student/teacher/esoteric, creative beast.
The writers and stars of Comedy Central's hilarious Workaholics -- Blake Anderson, Adam DeVine and Anders Holm -- try out different varieties of delicious, mouth-watering baby food while wearing bibs and blindfolds.
There's a scene in American Beauty where Kevin Spacey's character applies for work at a fast food restaurant. They assume that "Lester" is inquiring about a management position, only to be met with his classic reply, "I'm looking for the least possible amount of responsibility."