Two years ago I resigned from a job that was my dream job. I was CEO of a multinational market leader within its vertical. I’d worked for the business for 8 years and knew the business inside out. I’d made the mistake of hanging a lot of my identity and self-worth on my job and career. What a mistake that was.
We’re all familiar with meeting someone and within a few minutes, the conversation runs dry. The default question to restoke the chat is to ask “so what do you do for a living?”. And why not? it’s an easy layup. Most guys 20-60 years old are doing some kind of work so you’re sure to elicit an answer. As much as I hate to say it, I’ve used this tactic many times but in all honesty, I hate it. In fact, even worse, I hate when I’m asked that same question.
The reason I don’t like being asked what I “do” is that I no longer hang my hat on my profession. I’m not my career. I’m more than that. I haven’t always thought along these lines, and I think it’s because I was so conditioned to think that careerism was important, and even worse, I was a little insecure about my place in the world.
I’m not great at small talk and I hoped that by giving some insight into my profession, the other person might learn more about me and thus we’d evaluate whether the two of us have any common interests. Put simply, was this conversation worth further investment? or should we both cut our losses and move on?
Sadly I think many guys do the same thing, however, I’m sure they feel the same way I do. Maybe my thinking has mellowed with age or been tenderized by sleepless nights, poop-filled nappies, and toddlers in tantrums. Perhaps there just isn’t enough space in my mind for feelings of self-importance. It’s hard for me to say as I’ve only got one frame of reference. I wonder, do people without kids eventually hit that same ego cliff? where one stares over the edge and realizes that they aren’t that important? For me it was easy, I looked over the cliff and then looked back at the smiling faces of baby-faced cherubs, and thought, they are important. They are so important.
I’ve also shifted gears in other ways. Only recently have I realized that there’s even more to life than career and kids. I think this has come from observing some older people in my orbit that have transitioned into retirement. My thoughts have drifted into self-discovery and personal development. For instance, I’ve wanted to learn how to paint but for some reason, there never seemed to be time because in my thirties the mantra “time is money” was never far from my mind. Luckily, I’m slowly divorcing myself from this thinking and booked myself into a short art class. I took a few hours off work and decided to commit. And how was it? haha, it was great! For two hours I was consumed with something creative, and after the whole class, I was focused and determined to paint the best God damned grevilia anyone has ever painted! The result? probably worse than most primary schoolers could paint. How did I feel? great! I’d taken time out of my workday to invest in myself. It was a big deal to think that I was important enough to do something so selfish. Needless to say I’m booked in for more.
So with this in mind, what advice would I give to my younger self? That’s an interesting question, isn’t it? take a moment and ask yourself, what would you do differently if you had the same wisdom in your teens as you do now.
My advice to my younger self would be to have patience and have faith. When I say faith, I don’t mean it in the religious sense. I mean confidence that things will work out. As a teenager I was eager to get going to become an adult, to get a degree, to get a job. I think I was in too much of a hurry. Instead, I’d encourage myself to slow down. Take it easy. Be deliberate in what I do, but also leave space for creative outlets and time to be slow.
So, if my career isn’t important then what is? Where should my priorities lie? well, if you’ve read this far you probably know what I’m going to say. For everyone it’s different but for me, my priorities are family, my personal well being and my friendships. How does this manifest? well, on weekends I do my best to be a present father. I cook pancakes (or pannies as my boys call them) and make a point of playing with my kids for a few hours each day. That could mean lego or it could mean going to the beach. My wife and I spend evenings chatting after the kids have finally hit the sack. For myself, I try to read, meditate or scribble/sketch. Finally, for my friends, I try to find ways to connect in a deliberate way. Sometimes we’ll organize a catch-up at the park with our kids, sometimes a game of golf or sometimes a quick coffee. The important thing is to invest time on purpose.
