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The risks of ‘ghost vacationing’ over the holidays

by with No Comment Xpandfy

At the end of the year, it can be tempting to keep your Slack on and quietly slack off.

If a lot of your coworkers are away — and you’re supposed to be working — you might feel the pull to skip out. Yet, what’s sometimes called “ghost vacationing” carries risks that often outweigh the benefits of surreptitious R&R, career advisors told Business Insider.

One of the biggest hazards, of course, is getting caught. That can damage trust with your boss, said Amanda Augustine, a career expert at TopResume.

The timing can exacerbate the situation if you disappear when many people within your company are already scheduled to be off. If an issue arises — maybe a last-minute project or a client concern — and you’re not available when you’re supposed to be, “the ghost vacation really can backfire,” she said.

The cost of holiday-themed quiet quitting can grow if your coworkers are forced to cover for you while your mouse jiggler puts in overtime.

Augustine said that anyone who had legit time off scheduled might be left thinking, “I played by the rules, and then somebody just decides to go rogue, and now we all suffer for it.”

That resentment could linger. “How is collaboration after that? How is team morale?” she said.

Communication is key

For some workers, Augustine said, it might be reasonable during the holidays to take a longer lunch and check off some errands on your list — especially when offices are quieter, and expectations are looser. It might also be OK to announce that you’ll only be available by phone for a few hours before returning to your keyboard and attending to work.

The key, Augustine said, is clear communication with your boss so that expectations are understood on both sides.

Where it gets sticky, she said, is when you’re trying to appear as though you’re working when you’re not.

“For those that are blatantly just pretending to be on the clock when they’re supposed to be but are really unavailable, I think that’s when you can get into trouble,” Augustine said.

Flexibility can help

Augustine said that it’s likely that many people have, at some point, partaken in a bit of ghost vacationing — on a nice summer day, perhaps, or while traveling.

One reason could be that many people don’t use the vacation days they’re allotted. More than four in 10 US workers who had the benefit of paid time off took less time than they were given, according to a 2023 Pew Research Center survey.

For workers who might be feeling burned out, snippets of downtime on the DL often serve as little more than a Band-Aid, Augustine said. That’s because there’s lingering pressure to stay tethered to work messages.

It’s much more relaxing to be away from work when it’s approved, and you don’t have the feeling that someone is looking over your shoulder, said Peter Duris, CEO of Kickresume, a career tool that uses AI.

Bosses can help reduce workers’ temptation to slip away by being extra accommodating during periods like the holidays, he said.

“It’s definitely better for the businesses to change the schedule or change the workload,” Duris said.

Augustine said that if you can’t get time off approved when you want to, try to push through and take time off when others are back. That’s a safer approach, she said, than trying to take work in some camouflaged PTO.

“If you get caught misrepresenting your availability, it can quietly erode trust and and that can definitely last longer than, say, that day or so that you took off,” Augustine said.

Do you have a story to share about your career? Contact this reporter at tparadis@businessinsider.com.




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My dad died 3 years ago. I’m learning how to celebrate the holidays without him.

by with No Comment Xpandfy

Walking by the holiday decorations, I see the lights. It’s hard to miss them since they’re everywhere — blinking from plastic trees and dangling from the ceiling. It’s undoubtedly a well-lit wonderland, but I don’t stop to look. That is, I can’t stop.

The colored lights are an instant reminder of my dad. Memories of him carefully placing his favorite strings of blue lights on our tree bring a jagged emptiness. It’s been three years since my father died unexpectedly, and the holidays continue to deliver quite the gut punch.

I’m learning what to do with my holiday grief

Holiday grief is something I didn’t anticipate unwrapping every year. When my father passed away from a sudden heart attack, my family fell into a kind of shock. He was in good health and only a few months before, had a routine checkup with no abnormalities. His passing didn’t make sense.

In the weeks after he left us, we did all the things you do, helping my mom as best we could, but we weren’t prepared. Now, I’m a statistic fitting in with the 76% of adults who’ve lost a parent before age 59, and the 36% who don’t want to celebrate the holidays due to feelings of grief. I am 100% certain that I haven’t figured out how to do the holidays without him.

It’s the seemingly insignificant things that sneak up and trigger my grief: My first Christmas without him, I walked past the kitchen counter and, without thinking, looked for my great-grandmother’s cookie cutter. My dad used it to shape Oma’s cookies, and while he was cutting the dough, I’d hear him ask with a grin, “Did I ever tell you the story about when I was in high school, and Oma made me a secret plate of cookies?” Yes, every Christmas.

Then there were the batteries. As my dad tells it, when I was around 8, and my younger sister was 4, “Santa” forgot to buy batteries for our electronic presents. Batteries were definitely not included, and my dad drove to all the gas stations and grocery stores within a 30-mile radius only to find them closed, because, well, it was Christmas morning. “And that’s why I always have extra batteries,” Dad would explain as he slid open the stuffed-full (but well-organized) battery drawer.

These memories of cookies, batteries, and family stories all play on repeat in my head. The emptiness follows suit, and then the sadness takes its place. I can’t untangle my dad’s memories from any of our holiday rituals. So, how do I celebrate without him?

By telling family stories, I’m staying connected to my dad

Last year, my 11-year-old and I were enjoying the stillness by the Christmas tree when it occurred to me to ask: “Did you know Papa’s favorite colored lights were blue?” I told him how I grew up with all blue lights because Papa loved them so much. “And he had a system for stringing them closer to the trunk because Papa said, ‘It made the tree glow.'”

We sat together for a breath staring at the lights, and out of nowhere, my son flung his arms around my neck and gave me a surprise hug. “I like Papa’s stories,” he whispered. And just like that, a new tradition was born. My dad told the stories that meant the most to him, and now I have ones to add — all about my father. Family stories keep us connected, and it’s this ritual that helps me through the holidays. So, I’ll keep going.

“Did you hear the one about the time Oma made a secret plate of cookies for your Papa,” I asked. When my son looked up, the glow of the blue lights reflected in his eyes, and for an instant, I felt like maybe Papa wasn’t as far away as I thought.




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I thought the best holidays were going to be when my kids were little. I was wrong.

by with No Comment Xpandfy

My daughter-in-law called me recently to ask about Secret Santa. She was wondering if everyone would get involved, if I had any thoughts on stocking stuffers, and if there was anything in particular I might want, other than the Costco-sized jar of peanut M&Ms I had mentioned about 1,000 times.

My youngest son texted not long after to let me know he got three full days off for Christmas. He’ll be bringing his cat for a visit. We’ll all buy him cat treats. We will prepare casseroles and cookies, as well as overnight cinnamon rolls for the morning. We will wait to watch the main event, the Christmas movies, until we are all together.

This is my Christmas with adult kids. The kind of Christmas I dreaded when my four sons were little and I thought I had just those magical 18 holidays with them before it would all end.

I thought the best times were when they were little

I thought those Christmases were the best I would ever see as a mom because I think that’s the story we are sold. Christmas is for kids. It’s better with kids. It’s more fun, more magical, more everything. And I’ll tell you that I really wrung every second of joy out of Christmas when my kids were little in an absolute panic of memory-making.


Four boys during the holidays

The author pushed herself to make the holidays super special for her sons when they were little.

Courtesy of the author



I pushed the Santa agenda far longer than was socially acceptable. I baked every day, built gingerbread houses, and attended every Christmas concert. I bought the matching pajamas, I collected special ornaments and kept them in boxes for the boys to hang on our tree every year, no matter what.

I think I idolized the holidays, like a good Christmas might make up for any other shortcomings during the rest of the year. I overlooked how tough it really was on me in favor of the good mom checkmark I might get at the end of it all.

I can finally admit it was hard

And it was hard on me. I can admit this finally. Not just because I was on my own with my sons or because we were living right around the poverty line. But because I genuinely believed that the only Christmases that mattered happened when my kids were little. It was like a Doomsday clock was ticking down on my every year, tied up with a neat red bow. I had to build memories for them at any cost so they would have happy childhood memories and not look back on our life together as a failure.

I wish I could go back and talk to the stressed-out mom I was then. I would tell her that she could stop spending important January bill money on December toys. I would tell her that her kids will be OK. And yes, they want a few toys, but they will remember about one quarter of them by the next year.

Most of all, I would tell her that she has way more fun holidays ahead than she thinks. I would even argue that Christmas with adult kids is better than it is with little kids. The pressure is off. Right or wrong, they are grown now. I don’t have to keep any kind of special magic alive for them; they’ve seen behind the curtain, and they know I was back there all along.

It’s not all just on me

They see me. They appreciate me. Best of all, they are back behind the curtain with me now, too. They provide, along with me, trips to the grocery store for forgotten spices, coffee cream, and extra napkins. They buy gifts and tell me not to worry about anything. They lighten my load. I’m no longer the keeper of Christmas; we all are. Bringing a different kind of magic to whatever days we might have together over the holidays.

We bring in the old traditions from when they were kids, but also leave the door open for new things. New recipes, new ideas on how to celebrate. Chinese takeout for Christmas Eve one year or homemade pizza, depending on everyone’s work schedule. A little Baileys in our coffee while we open stockings. All of us together. The five of us, along with new partners, are perhaps the best Christmas gift of all. New family members who bring their own family traditions. We stay up late, we play cards with fun playlists full of music that’s new to me. I sleep happily.

I miss my boys being little. I always will. But these men and their partners and our holidays together? This feels like the real reward.




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My mother is spending the holidays with me for the first time in years. I’m struggling with the added costs and to-dos.

by with No Comment Xpandfy

I have not spent Christmas with my mother in more than a decade. We have spent our Christmases apart simply because of geography. We’ve been living on opposite sides of the country: a five-hour flight or a 26-hour car ride through unpredictable weather.

So, she’s kept to herself for the holidays, and I’ve become the keeper of Christmas for my immediate family. Even as my sons grew up and moved away, taking on their own roles to make our holidays special, I’m still the list-maker, the “don’t forget” reminder, and the decider in all things.

My four sons, all between 25 and 31 years old, have helped lighten my load over the years, especially as their partners have come onto the scene. Christmas was just starting to take on a new, easier shape.

But this year, my mother lost her husband of nearly 40 years, so she’s coming to visit, and I’m realizing how far I will need to stretch my budget.

I have to be my mother’s Santa this year

At first, I didn’t really think about how my mother’s arrival might change my own role for the holidays. I just thought about my mom, exhausted and heartbroken and unmoored by the loss of the husband she has lived with for more than half her life.

But as she gets ready to fly to me for Christmas, I’m realizing she’s going to need me to be her Santa.

My mom needs a Santa. She has suffered this year in a way I cannot even imagine. She needs soothing; she needs to be reintroduced to a big family Christmas. She needs a stocking filled with fun, thoughtful trinkets. She needs me to make this year extra magical, and honestly, I’m worried I’m not up to the task.

I’m struggling to keep up with everything this Christmas

I’m finding this Christmas overwhelming because everyone in the family needs me for different reasons. My kids need me to bring them together, to cook for them and bake for them, and organize a big rental space for the group of us.


Jennifer McGuire and her four sons

The author and her four sons usually spend Christmas together.

Courtesy of Jennifer McGuire



I’m also paying attention to everyone’s finances, thinking about who is doing well and who is not. I’m thinking about who might need a bit more and how I can give a bit more without playing favorites. How can I afford a bit more?

This is, perhaps, the crux of Christmas this year. The weight of giving to my children and my mother when they all need more. Whether it’s holiday gifts, time, or food, everyone needs me to be their person this year.

Even though everyone in the house will be a grown-up, I’m left feeling, for all intents and purposes, like the only grown-up for the holidays.

I’m struggling financially

I’m worried that I simply cannot afford to be Santa for everyone — not this year. Like many others, I have lost job after job in 2025. I am swimming just below the surface of losing everything, and I can’t seem to come up for air.

I know that no one in my family expects a lot for Christmas, but even a little something to make the day special for each person who so deeply deserves it will be a struggle. There are 10 people in our family, and $100 each means $1,000. We all know that $100 each is next to no budget at all.

And so this year, I’m getting creative. I’m buying secondhand gifts. I’m trying to become a crafty person to create something meaningful for all of my loved ones. I’m wishing I had helpful elves to take on some of my Santa tasks. I’m actively choosing to leave the stress of trying to find work at the door until after the holiday. I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying.

I’m focusing on giving my mother support

My mother’s first Christmas as a widow can’t be consumed by my own stress. She needs comfort. She needs family. She needs joy. Luckily, all of that is free.

She needs me to be the grown-up in the house. She needs me to be Santa. They all do, and I refuse to buckle under the weight of it.

Instead, I’m going to choose to feel grateful that I have all of this love in my life.




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