“the city’s ills were supposed to disappear.”
― Shuggie Bain
Back when I wore a younger man’s clothes, I drank the elixir of the protestant work ethic by the case. I was sold on the idea that I was on a mythical race to somewhere, I didn’t know where it was or even have a clear vision of how I’d recognize it if I got there, I only knew that if I worked hard and studied my craft to the exclusion of all else, I would be led to the land of milk and honey. So I outworked everybody.
Throughout my twenties, it was not uncommon for me to work 65 – 70 hours a week. I once bragged that I worked 29 days out of 30 for the month of October. as if it was a badge of honor and not a fool’s errand.
During this time period, I certainly became very adept at my work. And I was rewarded for it, both monetarily and with social status. But I also learned some harsh lessons, as the rewards were fleeting.
As part of the coat, relationships deteriorated. When you are working those kinds of hours, the only thing you have time for is more work. Due to my commitment to the race to get ahead, I missed out on irreplaceable opportunities for trips and adventures with friends. We always argue that we’ll do it CONTINUE READING: A RACE TO NOWHERE, WITH NO GUARANTEED WINNERS – Dad Gone Wild