Olivier Naimi is far from the seaside ramparts of his hometown, Antibes, France. These days. the 30·year·old senior production manager spends most days (and many nights) in San Mateo, Calif., inside a concrete office building shaped like a squat Tupperware container. Some of his co-workers enjoy views of the parking lot or the giant outdoor fontaine that squirts water between the wings of an abstract, metal swan, but not Naimi. His cubicle at Women.com is completely enclosed, windowless. When he's not staring at his computer screen, figuring out how to transform his department into a weapon of mass production, he's glancing at his poster of Monet's lilies or one of the pristine white beaches in his Hawaii 2000 calendar.
You might expect the Frenchman to complain-San Mateo is certainly no Antibes-but he doesn't. In fact, Naimi is downright plucky about Silicon Valley. After nearly two years of living here, he says you've got to run in the rat race to win first place. What about the stress, the obsession with initial public offerings and stock options, the round-the-clock work hours, the traffic, the obscene housing costs, the mad rush? Naimi claims he knew when he moved here that he'd have to adapt his lifestyle. It hasn't been a sacrifice, he says.
Something is wrong with this profile. The old saw states that Europeans separate their personal life from work, while Americans confuse the two spheres. Bygone days, says Naimi and many foreigners like him. The technology boom appears to be muddying traditional distinctions between American and foreign approaches to work and life. People from overseas immersed in high-tech professions here are acquiring All-American-Workaholic status faster than you can send an instant message. Americans looking to their immigrant co-workers for clues to the long-lost "meaning of life" or "inner peace" may be disappointed. Many foreign workers choose to join the race and risk becoming Americanized rather than balk and miss the excitement and potential Windfall.
Golden days fade
Indeed, Naimi claims he doesn't miss the long lunches and midday aperitifs that characterize life back home on the Cote d'Azur. He does not think the gadget-obsessed Americans he works with have lost sight of "real life" or that the United States is headed toward collective burnout the sort of "I've had it" malaise prophesied by social theorists like John Naisbitt author of High Tech, High Touch. Naimi would be the last person to suggest that U.S. professionals set down their cell phones and smell the roses. He works weekends. He works on five different laptops at home. He thinks he is part of "the biggest thing ever". Why slow down? What's there to complain about?
It's the new fortitude, a particular way of life that may in years to come inspire a spate of nostalgic studies along the lines of the Peter Mayle potboiler, A Year in Provence, works with titles such as Four years in San Mateo Office Park, which will instruct readers on how to maximize each day the Northern California way, how to drink lattes on the go and gobble down "wraps" while clicking away at computer keyboards. Vacations, they'll learn, were the moments spent moving between the bus stop and the office door. It was all about efficiency living.