I took a work call right after lunch yesterday that went on for more than an hour. The standard by which we’re judged…er, by which our performance is measured, is around a tenth of that. In other words, we need to be solving people’s problems in just a few minutes, otherwise its bad customer service.
Why did I let it go on so long? Because she was an old lady from Texas, and you DO NOT interrupt old ladies from Texas. Otherwise, well, bless your heart.
Really, though, she had a need to brag on her son. What need? I’m not sure. But if I had to guess, I’d say that when you get to a certain point in your life, when you have no more at-bats, your kids are your legacy. They’re your story, your life’s CV. Judging by her son’s accomplishments, she had done a great job. Whatever the case, it seemed like I was doing her a kindness by listening. My numbers be damned.
“Junior” excelled at everything from the time he was eight years old. High school was easy, extra curricular activities were numerous. He went to a great college where he was president of everything, including the president (or whatever the title is) of his fraternity for at least two years. He was sought out by law firms and engineering companies before he’d even graduated, and after that milestone, he was given a pile of money per year.
Evidently, the pressures of the work he does was like a nutrient bath for ambition. He rocked it in everything he did, including marriage.
By the time I risked everything and told her that I simply had to take other calls, I was proud of the guy. But I didn’t have to take other calls - I had to go for a walk around the building and chant affirmations to myself. “Everyone’s path is different…” “Don’t compare yourself to others, loser…” “My mom is proud of me, too…”
Hah. Not quite. But I did start to go there. How can one not question his life’s path when he’s tethered to a Tulsa call center desk, making less than a quarter of what he did in his prime, and being forced to listen to the glorious success of another man?
How? I ask you!
I could tell you it didn’t REALLY get to me, but here I am writing about it about twelve hours later at 0-Dark-Thirty, so…
I used the presto-changeo tools I’m trying to articulate in this newsletter to snap out of it. “It” being the toxic comparison habit too many of us indulge. The realization: We really are on our own paths. I knew my path when I was 15-years-old. I was just too afraid to go for it. Or rather, in no way did I believe I would be successful. It took 30+ years of shadow careers and unnecessarily vigorous self-flagellation to finally get to the starting line.
I don’t recommend it. Wherever you are: do the Thing right now. No resources? No connections? It doesn’t matter. There is always something you can do to start RFN.
Which brings me to one of the things I’ve been meaning to talk about for a few weeks now: this newsletter and its direction.
When I started this ‘Stack, I set an arbitrary goal of monetizing when it hit 100 subscribers. I figured it would take me a year or so to get there because, let’s face it, it would take me at least that long to go from winging it to something substantial. As in: “useful, funny or interesting.” 100 subscribers seemed like such a far-off goal. It was unimaginable.
It’s now at 97 subscribers. I don’t even know what to say, which as you might imagine is not terribly convenient for a writer. You people actually read this stuff? You tell others about it? Holy cow. I feel like I should change out of my PJ’s and put out a plate of cheese or something.
But seriously, thank you.
I will be turning on the monetization features soon, it seems. I just need to understand it first. Like, can I keep it free for the first hundred subscribers? How will I decide what goes behind the paywall? Maybe I follow the lead of some other Substack writers and keep the whole thing free and just rattle the tin cup from time to time…
I’ll figure it out. What I do know is that once I monetize the thing, however I do it, I’m going to have to seriously level it up. I’ve barely begun to tell the good stories, like the time an employee tried to extort $50k from me. Or the time an employee threatened to dismember me for firing him for driving company vehicles drunk. Or the employee who created a whole fake online persona in order to get rehired after I’d fired him for threatening to blow up our trucks…
Or the time I never learned how to hire effectively…
I have this crazy idea of turning it into something much more than my stories. I actually feel sheepishly guilty for talking about myself all the time. Everyone has their stories of rising above. I want to hear about those - whether they’re stories about fighting their way out of Afghan valleys or recovering from horrific party faux pas. I think we all need to hear more about people’s victorious stories of “rising above.”
I started this newsletter with one simple question: can I write consistently, as in once per week or even more? It turns out that the answer is “yes.” I make no brags about the quality of the thing, but at least there’s been a consistent level of quantity.
That’s enough writing about writing. What I really wanted to say in this, the 35th or so post, which I realize will one day seem cute, is “Thank you.” Thank you for reading, for opening the emails, for sharing. That encouragement has meant more than you know. Or, well, if you’ve actually been reading this thing, you know exactly how much it means.
I have to take the kids to school now. Here’s to a truck that still runs…
Thank you.
I’m always open for suggestions, rants, or good jokes. Please feel free to like, share the post, and share your thoughts!
Your mother must be very proud of you.
A truck that still runs. RFN. Gotta celebrate what has meaning. And if it’s got meaning, it’s touched you. You’ve known the anti-thrills of a truck that doesn’t run. You’ve plumbed the miserable sniffling depths of human deprivation vs expectancy. I’m looking forward to reading your first books and your more experienced ones too, as long as they don’t lose the flame.