
“You know, for all the faults we could point out, there are a lot of benefits to being here. For people in our roles, we control our schedule, there’s not a ton of pressure, we make a good living.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Joe said. “There are a lot of perks to working here, no matter how much we complain about other things. But, those things aren’t sustainable. That stuff’s great for now, but you know, it won’t last forever.”
Joe made a good point. It wasn’t anything profound and it was nothing I hadn’t pondered myself. But, for whatever reason, hearing him say it was the first time it resonated with me. This wouldn’t last forever. The position I was in, the state of the company, the pros and cons, none of it would last. For better or worse, it would all change to some degree. I knew this, but until now I hadn’t stopped to comprehend it.
Joe and I worked for the same company. We were both in production roles and enjoyed the perks of our position. We were responsible for bringing in new business. There was a level of pressure that came with that responsibility, but in exchange we enjoyed a flexible schedule and better compensation.
From the outside, things were good and our company looked great. It had a reputable name, recognized leadership, and had steadily grown throughout its 15 year existence. But on the inside, it was a different story. In the eight years I’d been with the company, the culture had eroded. It hadn’t turned toxic or even negative, but rather it had slowly evaporated over time. I couldn’t explain when or specifically how it happened, but there was an obvious difference in the corporate culture between the time I started and the present day. Things were more corporate. We’d experienced turnover. The office lacked camaraderie and interaction. Work was less fun and a lot more bland. Things were just different, plain and simple.
Joe knew this. And, he also knew that while there were perks to the job, they were all compensating factors. They were all things we’d come to accept in exchange for what the company lacked. And, as Joe pointed out, those things were fleeting. They wouldn’t last. They couldn’t. In one way or another, those indirect benefits would change. The company would experience new leadership. Our roles would become more demanding. The organization would get sold. Something would happen and whatever it was would change our lives. Our perspectives of the company had become the equivalent of dating someone for the wrong reasons. It was like being with someone for looks and money, even though you didn’t like them as a person. Those relationships don’t last, and as much as I hated to admit it, neither would my current station in life.
The more I thought about it, the more I recognized the need for change, even though it was the last thing I felt like doing. I was in a good spot. I had a young family and our day-to-day life was hectic, but manageable. My job supported our lifestyle with room to spare and provided me the flexibility to have a work-life balance. Why would I want to upset that? I had worked really hard to get here. The last thing I felt like doing was disrupting that dynamic. But, as Joe had pointed out, it wouldn’t last. The possibility of my job, and thus my life, continuing unperturbed wasn’t realistic. Things at work would change, and when they did, it would change the rest of my universe. This was an unavoidable fact, whether I wanted to acknowledge it or not.
I was fortunate to be in my current position and I was well aware of how much worse things could be. However, simply being comfortable was no way to go through life. I owed it to myself to be fulfilled. Everyone does. And, while I didn’t want to start moving pieces of my life around, I knew that things were going to move sooner or later, either by my own doing or someone else’s. I’d come too far to let someone else determine my destiny and I’d worked too hard to be content with comfortable. There was no telling when things would change, but I wasn’t going to wait around to find out. This wouldn’t last forever. Nothing ever does.
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