I'M LUCKY to be a journalist because I can cyber-loaf in the office and yet put it all down to how I'm doing 'research' for story ideas.
And given that I work in a lifestyle section, any topic under the sun is grist to the story mill.
So, let me count the ways I used office time last Monday to, ahem, do research (Mondays, I hasten to add, are traditionally slow news days; other days are definitely not as relaxed):
Checked out hotels for a holiday I'm planning next year. Scrolled through entries on TripAdvisor.com. Time spent: 10 mins (but a story idea did emerge from this, really. Watch out for it in The Straits Times' Life!)
Logged on to the website of a hotel I've already booked for a holiday in December. Time spent: 3 mins (to be an effective worker, you need to go on vacation to recharge, right?)
Went into YouTube to listen to Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark's Enola Gay. I'd heard a mobile phone using that song as a ring tone, and just couldn't get the tune out of my head. Listened to it twice. Okay, thrice. Time spent: 10 mins (But I had my computer on split screen and was doing real work while the music played)
Checked yahoo account for private mail. No mail. Re-read for pleasure some old mail. Time spent: 3 mins
Went into YouTube to listen to Gatekeeper, a song by Canadian singer Feist. Time spent: 4 mins (Again, on split screen)
Checked out this fantastic site that was forwarded to me. It's www.skypigeon.com and you get road directions in a jiffy. For fun, tested it. Time spent: 3 mins
Wrote yahoo mail to friend. Time spent: 5 minutes
Logged on to the forum of an EPL club that is not so hot this season and needs to be spurred on to do better. Time spent: 5 mins
Googled Lewis Hamilton because he's almost certain to win this season's F1. Rats. I like his team, McLaren, but I'm more a fan of Kimi Raikkonen who's now racing for Ferrari. Time spent: 5 mins
Googled Manju Kapur as I'd just finished reading her novel Home and liked it. Time spent: 5 mins
Total time spent cyber-loafing = 53 minutes.
And I'm not even on Facebook, Friendster, MySpace or other social networking sites where people make friends, play Scrabble, throw 'sheep' and 'buy' drinks for one another.
(Before I get hauled up by my editor, please, boss, do take into account how I log on for at least four hours every weekend to do office work when I'm not supposed to be working. And the wonder is - or maybe it shouldn't come as a surprise - I don't even cyber-loaf during that time). Ed's note: Excuses, excuses. Stop loafing. What am I paying you for?
CYBER-LOAFING is the act of surfing the Internet on non-work related subjects while you're in the office.
Oh, come on, we all do it. It's the 21st century equivalent of going for a coffee, cigarette or watercooler break, only that you sit at your desk, slack off stealthily on the computer and colleagues around you are none the wiser.
Next to the mobile phone, the Internet-connected computer must be modern man's best friend. It's a one-stop personal entertainment system just waiting to be tapped - literally. You can read, watch movies, play games, gamble, make friends, break friendships, stalk, shop and goodness knows what else. Our grandfathers never had it so good.
But good times come at a price. A story in last week's LifeStyle reported how employees who visit networking sites are causing businesses in Britain to lose 233 million hours every month.
And the cost in lost productivity? A mind-blowing £130 million a day. There are now calls to ban employees from accessing such sites.
Some see cyber-loafing as a sign that employees are lazy, bored, unmotivated and unchallenged, and think they should be punished.
Others view cyber-loafing as more boon than bane. They believe that such workers are more productive as they are better able to prioritise and manage their workloads.
Cyber-loafing also reduces stress and allows them to enjoy their work day more. The result? Happier, more effective workers.
No surprise that I'm all for the second camp.
For someone who works in the creative industry, pottering around the Net allows me to keep in touch with what's happening. Logging on to YouTube to listen to a song whenever I like makes office life so much more tolerable.
It certainly beats going to the canteen for more caffeine and another calorie-laden snack.
THE main downside to being attached to the Internet and other modern gadgets is how it has made me impatient. I have entered the cult of instant gratification.
My attention span has shortened because so many temptations are being thrust in my face all day. I flit from one topic to another (as my cyber-loafing diary shows), and I am losing the ability to be patient and to exercise will power and self-control.
Anything I want, I can get it now. Which means that everything I want, I want it now.
If I have a sudden desire to shop in the middle of the night, I just go online. In five minutes flat I can satisfy my craving for anything from a new cooking pot to a pillow to a pant-suit. (Yes, I don't get to possess the product at once but as any impulse buyer will tell you, it's not so much what you buy that is satisfying, but the act of buying.)
If I want to get in touch with a friend, I no longer write a letter. I just SMS him, and I expect a response, pronto, 30 seconds flat, or I'll get mad.
Technology has taken away the frustration of waiting. But it has also taken away the thrill of the wait. The rewards of patience, of the slow burn, can also be sweet.
Two months ago, I started keeping a diary - no, not a blog on the Internet but a proper old-fashioned diary which you place under lock and key.
The sort of diary which you take out at night to write, in longhand, using a pen. I'd not kept a diary for decades and it felt strange at first. These days, writing feels weird because I'm so used to typing. But slowly, it all came back.
I use the diary to recount my day, to relive the nice moments and to scratch away the bad, to draw, dream, celebrate, complain, predict my life and to pray.
It's terribly old media and it's not like I will be giving up my Internet trawling soon, but confiding in paper using a pen offers a catharsis the way an online journal never could.
And work-wise, there's one other benefit, too. You won't ever find me writing my diary in the office.
