I sat down into the airplane's seat as the captain mumbled his typical welcome speech. I couldn’t care less. I sank deep into the shallow cushions and took a moment to contemplate my life. The stress of work, broken washing machines, and unfinished tasks bore down on my shoulders and pushed me through the airline’s best attempt at comfort into a depression. Everything inside of me wanted to walk away, find something new, and start over.
I flipped open my laptop and fantasized about places to work and live. SpaceX, SkunkWorks, and Scaled Composites climbed high on the list; they all need talent, and I have my share of it. In a couple of clicks, I knew I could turn my inbox into a gravity well of better job offers and bigger opportunities. I knew all of the stress and strain dissipated by clicking “apply”.
I also knew that would be selfish, short-sighted, and a path to another set of problems that would only land me back in the same place I started, right back to that airplane seat. Kids change you in the most profound and fundamental ways. After having Murphy, stability started climbing the ladder of priorities, something I never expected.
For most of my adult life, I have never hesitated to move on to the next thing. I know my value, self-preservation and after a certain point, I defend myself by pursuing it. For years, I viewed my employment situation pragmatically, knowing full well that a business had the inclination and ability to leave me by the roadside faster than I could blink. After being fired a few times, you start to cultivate other options as a habit. You never know when the next budget cut, change of political winds, or annoyed supervisor will leave you high and dry.
Therefore, I shopped as a means of self preservation. “Nothing wrong with cultivating options,” I would think, “After all, I work here, but I work FOR me.” I didn’t realize that while I cultivated options, I also cultivated a toxic trait: quitting. When the going got rough, I started looking for ways out rather than for ways through. As I sat and reflected on every time I quit a job, I realized I had a pattern. Stress mounted, and I rode off into the sunset in search of green pastures.
I no more than realized the pattern before I started to hate that trait about myself. How had I let this happen? As I sat and reflected 40,000 feet above the earth, I started to come to some conclusions. I began my career in the active component of the Army. In those days, I found myself more miserable than I could communicate. Someone with my personality and drive could only experience supreme frustration in the lower enlisted ranks back in 2005. I needed some freedom and latitude to find satisfaction in my work.
After counting down the days until the end of my contract, I drove home and to my next job. I sought something easy and laid back so I went to work at a bank. It’s funny to think about how good I was at that job, but how terrible the job fit me. The more dissatisfied I grew, the more I started to realize I didn’t have to stay there. No contract held me to this misery, if I wanted to walk I could. So I did.
Walking out of the bank, I felt empowered. I held the bargaining chips now; they needed workers, and I needed peace. The moment the stress and misery mounted, I could simply get online and find something better. So I did from then on out. Each time a job started to go sideways, I started looking for other employment. Each time I started scrolling job listings, I found better options. When things got rough, I sent out applications. With each wave of applications, new offers came in, and when the aggravation mounted, I quit.
Now, things have changed. My wife is plugged into our church, and my daughter has a stable home in a good school district. Further, while work can get frustrating, challenging, stressful, and sometimes outright nerve-racking, it is noble employment for a righteous cause. Quitting now to satisfy myself and alleviate my stress would be detrimental to all I hold dear.
As the plane landed, I stood up with a new resolution. I would see this project through somehow or another. While I would love to tell you that its to build my community, provide stability for my daughter, and give my wife the life she deserves, I don’t know if I can say that honestly. While they are motivators, I need to see this through myself. I need to know that I won’t quit when the going gets hard and that I can bear the weight of the cross placed on my shoulders. I need to remember how to win.
Hone the Edge.