Today: Dream Job

Looking east from John's house in Winter.

One of the aspects I enjoy most about my current work is the opportunity to meet and interact with people from all over the United States. After working with more than 80 corporations scattered across three countries and 30 different states, you develop an appreciation for the sheer breadth and variety of experience in this world. In part because of this experience, I have come to believe that everyone has a story worth telling, everyone.

Four years in this current, and at times unsatisfying, position has taught me a great deal about what matters to me in a career. Ironically, had this job stretched me more than it has, I might never have asked the questions that have lead to these realizations. Chalk that up for silver linings. In terms of revelations, it turns out that meeting and getting to know people, the act of discovering or unearthing their “story,” really motivates me.

In my mind, some of the most compelling stories are nothing more than those threads of real-life events and seemingly inconsequential decisions that over time weave the fabric of life. If recounted honestly and with sincerity, these stories are far more engaging and edifying than the schmaltzy, celebrity-oriented, air-brushed garbage you read in the tabloids. In the act of sharing their lives with me, these people become my friends and sometimes even my mentors.

Looking SW from John's house in Winter.

Divine Providence

As Rachael will attest, I have spent a great deal of time worrying and whining that my work here at Serengeti has too little to offer me in terms of real growth and career development. Were I to lose my job, not so hypothetical a proposition to one who has lost a job, I have worried that my time at Serengeti wouldn’t lead to meaningful work elsewhere.

I base these concerns on such arbitrary standards as how easily I dispatch with my responsibilities at work, and the amount of time I actually spend in the saddle at work. In reality, I have come to see that I have never had a position for which I was imminently qualified in my own right. Nope, every job I’ve ever landed came to me through an act of divine providence. No kidding.

Fortunately, over the last year or so, the film has begun to wash from my eyes. On more than one occasion, I have received clear impressions that I am where I am for a reason. I don’t understand all the reasons, and this isn’t the time or the place to expound on my suspicions. It occurs to me, however, in those quiet moments of reflection, that perhaps it is the friendships with clients that keep me here. They have undoubtedly enriched my life—in more ways than one.

VSI

Two or three months back I received a new client by the name of Veterinarian Science Incorporated†. My counterparts at VSI included the general counsel, a soft-spoken but clear-sighted man, and his gal Friday, a direct and driven woman with motherly tendencies.

Working in the legal industry, you learn to tread lightly. Over-inflated egos, like so many landmines, lurk around every corner. Fortunately, our very first call revealed that the folks at VSI had a refreshingly unassuming manner. As is often case, within a couple calls we began asking about the weather and each others’ families. We became so close that Donna, the paralegal, began regaling me with pictures of her daughter’s bike collection and her grandsons riding mountain bikes outside of Denver.

As hokey as it may sound, I find that sort of thing deeply satisfying.

Looking SW from John's house in Summer

The Dream

Not too far back, I mentioned to John, the general counsel, that my personal dream in life is to own enough land to justify a tractor. Imagine how cool it would be to roll out of bed, stumble into the garage, and hit a private circuit of mountain bike trails within 30 seconds of your morning prayers and to never once leave your property! Sounds to me like nirvana. The only thing better would be to craft those trails with your own blistered hands, a Stihl, a John Deere, and copious amounts of sweat. George W. Bush found his dream, mountain bike trails included, in Crawford, Texas.

Anyway, during this call, John mentioned that he owned acreage just outside a small town in northern Colorado known as Livermore. This prompted a whole raft of questions. Pretty soon he was painting a mental picture for me. Turns out, Livermore is halfway between nowhere and the Wyoming border, just inside the foothills of Colorado’s Front Range. After a few minutes, John volunteered to send over pictures of his property.

John’s pictures prompted this post. Everyone one of the images ornamenting this post was taken from the vantage of John’s home. The broad arc of heaven, the undulating terrain wreathing by the forested hills in the background, and the semi-arid vegetation all speak to my soul.

Together, these pictures represent for me the realization, vicarious though it may be, of a dream. So ultimately, I guess all this rambling begs one fundamental question: “How bad is my job if I manage to discuss my dreams and see them fulfilled here?” And perhaps more to the point, “Does that make this my dream job?”

†The names of individuals and corporations in this story have been changed to protect the innocent.