Closing the Books at Year's End: Keep One Minute for Yourself

The red stamp sits in its tray, cap off, ink still wet at the edge. Next to it is a stack of vouchers held by a black binder clip with one leg broken. A dry wind comes through the gap in the window, lifts a corner of paper, and lets it drop. Downstairs, the candy shop has been playing Tet music since last week.

At the end of every year my desk looks like this each afternoon. If you are also closing books, closing orders, closing reports, even if you are not an accountant, you know this scene: everything has to be done before Tet, and nowhere on the list is a line that says "one minute for me".

This won't make the pile smaller. It is only about one minute, placed in the very small spots of a closing day.

That minute is not for working faster, and it is not for ending the pressure. It is also not a ritual you have to keep up for a set number of days. It is only a minute when you are not on anyone's list.

Why does even one minute feel like a luxury at year's end?

5:40 in the afternoon, a day in the last lunar month. The trial balance is running on the screen, its progress bar creeping along. The iced tea at my left hand is sweating, leaving a wet ring on a scrap sheet. The woman at the next desk stands up, holding an empty cup.

"Coming for coffee?"

"No, I still have the trial balance."

"Just a minute."

"A minute is still a minute."

I said that very seriously, and while saying it, it felt reasonable. The difficulty of year's end is usually described as a lack of time. True, but if you stop there, the only way out is to wait until after Tet to rest.

Look closer and, in this season, every minute seems to have an owner already. This minute belongs to the chief accountant waiting for numbers. That one belongs to a supplier waiting for a transfer. Another belongs to someone back home waiting for you to catch the bus. So a minute for yourself sounds like taking from someone, and the snag isn't a shortage of minutes but not daring to let yourself take one. Yet many of those minutes, looked at again, could wait another sixty seconds.

Another piece talks about this in a more general way, a one-minute pause during work hours. Here it is only about the closing season.

The first time, many people feel awkward. What am I doing, standing still in the middle of a busy day. I did too, and last year I forgot about this until right before the Tet holiday. After about a week, what changes first is usually not feeling less tired. It is that the minute comes at a better moment, and some people stop feeling guilty about taking it, some don't yet. Both are normal.

On a day that is too crammed, shrink it to exactly one time, at the spot you remember most easily.

There is one easy way to spoil this minute: opening your phone to "rest" and scrolling Zalo. It is tempting because the hand already knows the way, but a minute later you still haven't rested, you have only changed what you look at. Instead, leave the phone face down and look at something with no words on it: the desktop, the cup, the window.

Three places in a closing day to keep one minute

You don't need a free moment, because this season has none. Just pick spots that are already in the day.

When the stamp lifts

The stamp comes down, lifts, and a red mark appears on the paper. That is a moment already built in: one thing really done. Don't move straight to the next sheet. Look at the red mark for one breath, then pull the next sheet closer.

While the ink dries

A stamp mark needs a while to dry, and until it does you can't stack another sheet on top. Gently, no rush: until the ink is dry the paper can't be filed, and that wait is itself a minute when nobody is asking anything of you.

After the last signature of the day

The last signature of the day usually lands when the window has already gone dark. Put the pen down and look at your hand for a moment. A closing day has just finished, even though tomorrow a whole stack remains.

When one minute is not enough

One minute is not the answer to everything, and year's end has things it cannot carry.

If you are being insulted, bullied or threatened at work, that is not something to simply breathe through. Write down the date, the time and what happened, tell someone you trust, and look for the department or office that can support you.

If the tiredness, the sadness or the worry is not only about the closing season but has gone on for weeks, speak with someone who has professional training. That isn't for weak people. Some things are clearer when you look at them with someone else.

And if you think about hurting yourself, even as a passing thought, that thought does not wait. Tell someone you trust today. The Emergency Support page explains what holds true in moments like that.

This afternoon I press the cap back onto the stamp and pull the drawer shut, hearing the small wheels slide into the rail. The stack of vouchers is still there. But for one minute of the day, it belonged to no one.

This article was created with AI assistance.