My former label was “Account Executive.” It sounded smart, but my administrative responsibilities were far from senior. I didn’t attend board meetings. I didn’t get my own parking spot. I didn’t have any employees. I spent entire days cold-calling for new business. Fancy title. Shitty job.
I was raised in the industrious and sometimes prosperous rust belt of America. When I was still in high school, I decided to participate in a “co-op” program with an insurance agency. It was a “work-study” program that allowed me to skip classes so that I could put in hours. Insurance wasn’t necessarily what I wanted to do with my life, but it allowed me to buy a car.
When I turned 18, I got my agents license and was able to start working full time to pay my way through university night classes. It was nice already having job experience when a lot of my friends were just getting started, but being so serious about making money at a young age may have limited my early learning experiences in other ways. Then again, maybe it showed me just what I needed to know.
Throughout every transition in my career, I spent most hours of my days dreaming of backpacking trips, kayak excursions, jumping out of airplanes, or basically anything other than shuffling papers, tabulating accounts and trying to hit quotas.
At my last sales job, the frontier of my sales territory was 150 miles from home. I had to drive for two hours just to get to my clients. It gave me a lot of time to consider the progression of my life, although in winter time, my focus was more about just trying to stay on the road.
One winter I was on my way back home in the middle of a snowstorm. I had decided to cancel the rest of my appointments to try and get home before the storm got too bad, but it was already too late. I ended up squarely in the middle of a blinding whiteout. I knew there was a semi-truck just in front of me, but I couldn’t see a thing. There was no way to know what was going on ahead or behind. Then I caught a glimpse of people standing around in the median. Through breaks in the swirling snow, I saw carnage all around. Cars were smashed up in the ditch. Trucks were jackknifed and rolled over.
Emergency crews were nowhere in sight. I felt helpless as I watched in horror. I wanted to stop to help, but there was nowhere to pull off. I was afraid to stop, not knowing what was behind me. All I could do was creep along white knuckled through the slow procession of chaos. It took me six hours just to get home that day. When I got there, Scott was watching the news. There were more than a hundred vehicles in the pile-up. Had I been passing through just a few minutes earlier, my life may have taken a much different course.
Spending so much time on the road definitely gave me lots of time to consider my future. After my SUV was totaled by a garbage truck on my way to work, I certainly considered my fate. What’s it worth making a living if you end up not alive?