I lost my job two months before my wife and I were expecting our first child.
The first phone call I made after hearing the news was to my father in law who had talked to me about the possibility of me working at his shop in the past.
I begged him for a job.
He had me tag along with another salesman for over a month, learning the craft on the road. He had me write a report and find a market corner they weren’t utilizing as part of my interview process. I had a lengthy interview where I had to demonstrate all of my knowledge and I think I impressed the old man. He gave me the job and I started the next Monday.
I have never been anything but grateful for the opportunities afforded to me by people I know. Of my seven jobs, I came by six of them by knowing someone inside the business. It is the dirty little secret they don’t tell you in college. ‘All this stuff matters only if you know someone’ should be inscribed in Latin over the entrance to every building. Hell, maybe it is.
But my job now is not something I am passionate about. I like it, some days I like it a hell of a lot. And I can see myself staying here for a very long time. It has everything I never had in the world of architecture, good pay and security.
The question I have to ask myself comes down to, is that good enough? Do I have to be creative at my job or can I just do it at home in my spare time and still feel satisfied? Am I just working for the weekend?
My shrink tells me that most people aren’t entirely happy with their job, but I obsess over it, so why? And my response to him is that I’m not most people. I have never felt like most people. And I have never wanted to be most people.