I never nailed the “what do you want to be when you grow up?” word problem. Growing up I wanted to be a hundred different things. Preteen I most likely wanted to be a fireman, cop or a super hero. Early teens I wanted to be a professional sports player. Didn’t matter what is was hell even pro wrestling would’ve been a fun option. I wanted something fun.

I recall my first book report on a career path in 8th grade I did a write up on becoming an obstetrician. I didn’t really care to be one but I liked the Cosby Show at the time and Cliff was one and it looked like he had a swell life and a big family. I never pursued it obviously and my GPA hovered below a 2.0 so any sort of medical education wasn’t shining bright in my life. I still faired better than Cliff did in the long run..

My guidance counselor treated me like a file in her cabinet and by my senior year she pretty much told me that Greenville tech was the best solution for me. “You’ll figure it out once you get going. Choose an associate of arts or science degree and by year two you’ll find your direction”

My interests were commercial art my senior year. I applied to the Arts institute of Atlanta. I got accepted but the money I was to use for my tuition had been spent by my parents to pay bills for other things and people. It crushed me just a tad. I changed my direction to education. I was to be a history teacher I had always been a fan of history and it was one of my few grades I kept above a C. I’d do two years at Harvard on the Hill and transfer to Clemson.

Ideally

I squeezed by the first semester, signed on for round 2 and never showed back up. Fell in boy love with a sweet young lady and school became the last thing on my mind. My days of college interest expired about the same time our relationship ended.

I tried for a brief moment to go back into a nursing program at 24 but I never made it past the application process. I drifted off into service industry purgatory.

I didn’t WANT to be a nurse. Before that I didn’t WANT to be a history teacher. As I look back on my life I’m glad that I didn’t get into the graphic art world of consumerism because I’d probably be sleeping with a gun in my mouth every night.

That went dark. Unintentionally. Over the top hyperbole but you get my point. I wasn’t meant to do any of those things.

I don’t think I was meant to be in the service industry. I got sidelined in life in my mid 20’s and never got off the bench.

Off my ass

It paid well. Still does for the most part it just comes with a price.

Stress

Volatility

High volume

Service industry was a side quest and I got lost in it. I got really good at it by proxy. You give a monkey a steak knife eventually it’ll stop poking holes in things and it’ll start turning loins into bite sized tips. Repetition is paramount.

By my late 20’s early 30’s it was excel in this industry or feel lack for the rest of your life so I changed gears of being a front man and focused on starting my own band/business. I tried real estate investing as a side hustle and lost it all in the housing market crash in 2007. I don’t have the stomach to do it again.

Around 40 threw all my eggs in a basket to open my own restaurant. That took away 10 years of my life.

This wasn’t a career choice. It was a life lesson. When I was 20, hovering between full time work, lost love and finding my cosmic foot print the last thing I had in mind was a restaurant or bar. My old man had one and when it failed my father’s entire life did also.

Hot dog holy cow shit did I experience the same exact thing. We were on same exact paths at almost the same time in our lifeline. I have no doubt I would’ve stayed true to that course had my father not shown me the end result 40 years prior. I almost perceive it as his sacrifice to me. “I did this so you won’t do the same”

Love, Dad

I tried to steer clear of the restaurant business for years. I grew up in it. Didn’t see any future in it. A dui at 21 sent me into the annals of it and it swallowed me whole.

I’ve shared, probably overshared what happened after my last career crash over the last decade. I thought I knew what I wanted. Thought I had it all figured out.

My old therapist always said never put all your emotional eggs in one basket and here I was doing it again. I might’ve had a breakdown if I hadn’t exhausted myself from that decade. Came close but no cigar.

My mind didn’t become career focused until after I washed back up on shore. Career focused is the wrong term.

Life focused.

I don’t think I was ever meant for a life filling career. I had quite a few but fulfillment? Hardly. Fulfuckoff with that. I think I’ve been fighting domestication my entire adult life without ever realizing it.

There’s two definitions of the word “career”

The noun – an occupation undertaken for a significant period of a person’s life and with opportunities for progress.

And the verb – move swiftly and in an uncontrolled way in a specified direction.

Hey! That’s me ^^

I came across an Oscar Wilde quote the other day and it stuck with me like glitter in a shag rug.

“If you want to be a grocer, or a general, or a politician, or a judge, you will invariably become it; that is your punishment. If you never know what you want to be, if you live what some might call the dynamic life but what I will call the artistic life, if each day you are unsure of who you are and what you know you will never become anything, and that is your reward.”

I may always be regarded as a restauranteur by my peers and some family but I’d rather not be. I regarded myself the same way for many years.

But

That’s not who I am it’s only a character I portrayed while playing the game. I live in my own little world now and I like it. I don’t have a career I hang out in a big room with a buddy of mine, we make some fun food and dick off most of the day. When I’m not doing that I’m philosophizing with a crow over a campfire on a ridge overlooking a gorge.

My career no longer defines me and I refuse to let it do so.

My career careered off the rails years ago. It was meant to. I’m not meant to be anything other than myself.

Took me 54 years to get this. Doesn’t mean I can say fuck off to working it only means I can say fuck off to letting it mold me into something I am not. I may have the deli 3 years from now or I may not. The difference is I’m no longer obligated to carry around a title or vocational name tag to define me. I could care less.

Can you see me being an obstetrician? Oof

Nurse? I hate wearing gloves.

Commercial artist? I’m no longer attached to consumerism. This is why I’ve mostly walked away from work posting. I despise it (the posting part)

If you’re in your 50’s and feel like you’ve never found your way maybe that indeed is your path. To explore, consider, get lost in the wild.

Just take some time to enjoy the game. It’s a fun ride. Take off your seatbelt and hang out the window.

Peace. ☮️