For seventeen years, I had a j-o-b. Lots of them, in fact. They each offered me health insurance, 401ks, stock options, paid time off, sick days, and a rock-solid paycheck every two weeks. I went to work, I did my work, and I went home. Oftentimes, the w-o-r-k from the j-o-b followed me home.
But there was an achy space — I guess to be honest, there were achy spaces. The spaces in between every task. Between my front door and the car door. Between my car and the front door of the office. Between every task throughout the day, that bit of bliss before I had to pick up and do something else for someone else. The spaces between paychecks grew more and more achy and it became that the paycheck was the goal.
Me >> j-o-b >> w-o-r-k >> money >> bank
Wash. Rinse. Repeat…for seventeen years.
And then the funniest thing happened one day. I lost my j-o-b. I walked in the front door of the office, the company ran out of money, and the following Monday, I was at h-o-m-e on my s-o-f-a.
I had no j-o-b.
And I never would again.
Be Honest With Yourself
My life as of late has been a series of harsh lessons in honesty. My own, other people’s, other people’s inability to be…and time and time again, I realize that the only thing I’m capable of being is honest. And it’s funny — because after 17 years of not being honest with myself and working a series of unfulfilling j-o-bs, it would be the obvious conclusion that I’m pretty fucking good at not being honest.
So, be honest with yourself. Do you really want to be doing what you’re doing? Do you really want another j-o-b or are there achy spaces screaming (begging, yearning) to be filled with that thing you’ve been ignoring?
If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I’ve been given roughly 80 years on this planet ([73.5+86] / 2 = 79.75 >>> I’m rounding up, screw it). Seeing as how I just turned 40, my life is effectively half over. I spent 17 years of my first 40 fucking around with j-o-bs and w-o-r-k.
Do you want to do the same thing?
Here’s how I see it: go ahead. Take the next j-o-b. That paycheck will still come every 2 weeks. You’ll be square with your taxes and can call in sick when the flu bug hits. Use any myriad of excuses you like — and you know they’re excuses because they contain the words “but” and “can’t.” But it’ll still be a j-o-b, but with different potted plants and an ergonomic office chair, and you’ll still have the achy spaces between the paychecks.
Because if you’re going to work for the paycheck, you’re going for the wrong reasons. Money doesn’t solve anything — especially when it comes at a price so high as your happiness and your heart, and you sell your reason for being down the river in the name of a piece of paper with some numbers on them.
So, about your j-o-b…get rid of it. Be honest with yourself. Scare the shit out of yourself and do the one thing you never thought you could do (but always wanted to). And quitting your j-o-b isn’t about launching our own business — unless that’s what you’re been daydreaming about in your achy spaces in between. You can work for whomever you want yet never have a j-o-b.
And I hope you never have a j-o-b again. Because they suck, and all you’re doing is lying to yourself that your happiness is only a paycheck away. Which it isn’t. And it never will be.
You’ve been slapped.