You will have noticed the vast amount of media coverage given the photo of a Toronto subway fare collector napping in his booth.

It seems to have upset many people, but I am not among them. I have always believed that a quiet nap is one of the perks of a good job. I have many naps to my credit, although I must say that the best naps are behind closed doors and away from windows.

And they require some planning.

For example, when I worked at an institution of higher learning, I made a sign for my office door that simply read, “Back in 20 minutes.” That was usually enough to discourage anyone from banging on the door. Then I turned out the light and tilted back my chair, put my feet on my desk and slept. It was extremely peaceful. If I felt I needed a longer nap, I hung up a sign that read: “Don’t knock, I’m not here.” And rarely was I bothered.

(One of the keys to this strategy was that I had a job with irregular hours. No one was ever certain when I worked. Or if I did.)

Even when I had a regular nine-to-five job, I managed to squeeze in some rest by shutting the door and putting my feet up. But I was lucky to get a stretch of 10 or 15 minutes.

This was at a large magazine, at which the editorial director set the tone for napping. Every day after lunch, he shut his door, took off his jacket and lay down on the couch in his office. This couch was along one wall of frosted glass and we could make out his bulk. I thought that some day, when I had an office of my own, I, too, would own a couch and I, too, would take naps.

Surprisingly, it came to pass that I did get an office that came with a stout door and a decent couch. But by then I was an expert in chair napping — tilt back, feet on the desk, sleep. When I laid on the couch, I was consumed by guilt. For all the world, it felt like sleeping on the job. And I couldn’t do it.

If you don’t have a couch or a door, there are other ways of catching a nap at work. But it is important to be away from the public eye. Unless you are the big boss.

When I worked overnight on a wire service, some of us would just put our heads down on our desks. But a couple of others, who believed in getting their rest went into the library, climbed up on the big tables and went to sleep with a pile of newspapers as a pillow. This worked fine for a couple of weeks, until one of the sleepers — whose nap was aided by gin — rolled off the table, bounced off a chair and had to be dragged to the ER. He wasn’t hurt; and, after that, he was assigned to a day shift.

At another workplace, one of the afternoon nappers would slip into the dimly lit men’s washroom, sit down on the toilet and close both the door and his eyes. This took a lot of nerve because the washroom was a busy place and someone could well knock on your door. He might have gone on to great successes in the world of office napping, but he was fired — not for sleeping on the job, but for being incompetent while awake.

One other reason for sleeping on the job is sheer necessity. Once, when I was a boss, I came into the office at six in the morning to get a start on the day and I noticed a light in another office. Always conservation-minded, I pushed open the door so I could shut it off, but the door jammed. I pushed harder, and there was a grunt. I stuck my head in. There was one of our contract employees stretched out on the floor. “I couldn’t pay the rent on my apartment,” she said. “But I’ll be up in a few minutes, when my daughter wakes; she’s under the desk.” I left her there.

At another large corporation, at which I had a morning job, I used to bump into a news guy in the early mornings in the washroom stripped to the waist and running water over his head. Finally, I asked him why. “I live here,” he said. “My wife threw me out. I sleep upstairs at my desk; no one ever cleans up there. Don’t turn me in.”

@page_break@ And I didn’t. As I say: one of the perks of having a good job is a good nap. IE