“You just really have to want to kill people,” he said with a smile.

And, there it was. A truth I’d be avoiding for a long time. The words hummed in my head like a tuning fork as their meaning became crystal clear.

I was 26 years old when I joined a Men’s League baseball team. The league consisted of former high school and collegiate players and we relived our past glory on Sunday afternoons at a local high school. One of the guys on my team was a former Navy SEAL and during post-game beers in the parking lot, the conversation would often turn into a Q & A session with us hurling inquiries at him about his experiences. If the group on hand was small enough, he would answer as truthfully as he could without going into specific details.

On this particular day, the topic of training had come up. We peppered him with questions about what it was like and how he had endured it. His response had been surprising. He’d explained that lots of people had the ability to do it, but that the majority lacked the actual desire for it. He said that most of the guys who started out in the training, while physically capable, were there for the wrong reasons. Either they liked the idea of being a SEAL or there was some family heritage they were trying to live up to.

“Those were the guys that rarely made it,” he said. “You go through so much, for so long, that you need to have something else driving you. Those guys realize that if you don’t really want to bleed and sweat and grab a gun and parachute into jungles, that it just isn’t worth it…and they’re right. If you are doing it for the wrong reasons, it isn’t worth it.”

He then continued, “You just really have to want to kill people”.

At that time, I was a year into a commercial real estate career. I had found my way into a prominent company and had been taken under the wing of a successful player in the industry. It was a tremendous opportunity, but I fucking hated it.

In all fairness, it wasn’t the job that I hated. I hated how I felt about myself in that job. The industry was high-commission sales. It was an ‘eat what you kill’ environment and nothing was handed to anybody. It required you to find clients, create business, and carve out a name for yourself. The early years consisted of thousands of cold calls and countless awkward meetings. Eventually, the strong survived while the weaker left and found something more stable. Those who survived reaped the rewards of high commissions and complete independence. The hallways of every shop were filled with office lions who strolled in and out as they pleased, answering to nobody, and exuding pride in the positions they held and the careers they had carved.

For many reasons, a career in commercial real estate was enviable. The money, the schedule, the lifestyle, it all looked great. But, it wasn’t easy and it didn’t happen overnight.

It took years of work and during those early years, there wasn’t much money, the schedule was brutal, and the lifestyle was meager.

At that time, I was a trainee, somewhere past intern but not yet an associate. My days were spent on business development. This meant I was focused on scheduling meetings, and meetings were scheduled through cold-calling. The problem was that I hated cold calling. I hated bull-shitting at the meetings I set. I hated it all. But, I was insecure and I kept thinking I was wrong. I kept thinking I was a fool for not sucking it up and hitting the phones for another hour. Most of all, I kept thinking I was wrong for not caring to be one of “them”.

As I sat in the parking lot that afternoon, a little tired and a little buzzed, I understood what my SEAL friend meant. In regards to my job, I just didn’t want to kill people, and nothing was going to change that. I was one of the guys who had applied for SEAL training for all the wrong reasons. I thought being in commercial real estate sounded cool.  But, in reality, I didn’t like any part of it.

I would like to say that on the following Monday I handed in my resignation letter and began the next chapter in my life, but things don’t always work that way. Instead, I went back to my dreaded grind. Although now, all previous doubts had been erased and I knew I was in the wrong place. I had no reason to continue my facade. Better to leave this for the guys who really wanted this career. To me, it wasn’t something I cared to fight for.  

Fast forward a few years and it wouldn’t appear my parking lot epiphany had any long-term effect on me, or at least not on the surface. While I may not be working at my dream job, I am working towards it. I have a vision of what I want and I have ideas on how to get it. It won’t be easy, but it was never supposed to be. It may take a long time, but that’s OK.  I’m doing it for the right reasons. It’s a battle I’m eager to take on and it’s something I’m ready to kill for.  That’s the one thing of which I’m sure.