Ha! I told you I go for the first thing that pops into my head in the morning. Yeah, I know, the eighties, headbands and lousy songs, but that’s what I get for having cottage cheese, black beans and hard boiled eggs just before bed. Has anyone invented brain enemas yet?
While pacing miserably for my coffee it started to make sense. We put so much of our time and energy into someone else’s vision, that we put our creative persona on hold and stifle our passion in frustration. I had a chat with an old friend of mine the other day, he just got hired after a long period of inactivity. When you’re in your fifties that’s a dangerous place to be coming from. “It’s OK, I guess,” was his response after I inquired how he liked his new job. We’ve had this conversation before. Many times.
I know I keep prattling on about how this economy will separate the wheat from the chaff, the clever from the clueless, and the driven from the drones, but I keep hearing these stories first hand. There’s only a false sense of security. My friends with long commutes and tiny cubicles grip their steering wheels in the morning sun and are grateful for at least somewhere to go.
My take on all this is, start packing now. I hear people say, “I gave them the best years of my life.” No you didn’t, you took a paycheck and put a lid on it. I don’t want to hear that stuff anymore. Get over it. You should have been stockpiling every opportunity, every job function and experience you had in the process of building You Incorporated. You took, you didn’t give.
Now, the existential dilemma: who are you without your job? Yeah, get naked and think about it. Ponder your very existence, pull yourself together and face the new reality. If you must take a job in the future, go in there with a Hoover and make it a learning opportunity. Volunteer for anything that will grow you as a commodity in this vanishing work environment.
If you let someone call all the shots and you find yourself angry and bitter, just remember, all this time you were workin’ for the weak end.
If you’ve made it this far down the page and think you can endure more of this nonsense, click the subscribe button and get free delivery. You can also leave a comment with suggestions on where I can get professional help. Thanks. E.R.