"I've decided to leave my job and become a fireman," the man said suddenly.
"Really?" asked his bemused co-worker, for he knew that being a fireman would be completely different to the current desk job.
"Yes."
The co-worker thought for a moment, pensively considering whether the next question was appropriate. Eventually, curiosity overcame him and he spoke again, "Is it more money?"
"No," replied the first man, "Actually it is a bit less."
Now this is curious, thought the co-worker, why would someone leave a job that is secure and pays reasonably well to take on a lesser paid role that has unsociable hours.
"It will be a long time until I leave," continued the first man, "I need to undertake training and pass medicals and even then I might not get in."
The co-worker shook his head, "I just don't get it," he moaned with an air of despair, "why would you leave this job and take a pay cut to do that?"
The first man smiled, his eyes bright and alive, "I want to, thats why..."
Job satisfaction is an amazing thing. It cannot be measured in any conceivable way. It is not earned, it is as unique to every individual as every individual is unique to it. I cannot imagine going to an interview and asking "How much will this job satisfy me?" Rather than "How much will I get paid?"
And yet this thing, this unquantifiable thing means everything, for if I feel unsatisfied, then there is something missing from life and if that is the case can I be happy?
That is where my writing comes in. My ramblings and pretend authorings bring me little more than a personal fulfillment of happiness and satisfaction. But what more do I really need?
Now I'm thinking too hard. Time for a beer, a bet and some food in preparation for the footie. I will continue my musings another time.
Wednesday 16 September 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
Loving your new posting schedule! This reminded me of this from the 4 -hour work week:
ReplyDeleteAn American businessman took a vacation to a small coastal Mexican village on doctor’s orders. Unable to sleep after an urgent phone call from the office the first morning, he walked out to the pier to clear his head. A small boat with just one fisherman had docked, and inside the boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish.
“How long did it take you to catch them?” the American asked.
“Only a little while,” the Mexican replied in surprisingly good English.
“Why don’t you stay out longer and catch more fish?” the American then asked.
“I have enough to support my family and give a few to friends,” the Mexican said as he unloaded them into a basket.
“But… What do you do with the rest of your time?”
The Mexican looked up and smiled. “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take a siesta with my wife, Julia, and stroll into the village each evening, where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life, senor.”
The American laughed and stood tall. “Sir, I’m a Harvard M.B.A. and can help you. You should spend more time fishing, and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat. In no time, you could buy several boats with the increased haul. Eventually, you would have a fleet of fishing boats.”
He continued, “Instead of selling your catch to a middleman, you would sell directly to the consumers, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing, and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village, of course, and move to Mexico City, then to Los Angeles, and eventually to New York City, where you could run your expanded enterprise with proper management.
The Mexican fisherman asked, “But, senor, how long will all this take?”
To which the American replied, “15-20 years, 25 tops.”
“But what then, senor?”
The American laughed and said, “That’s the best part. When the time is right, you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would make millions.”
“Millions senor? Then what?”
“Then you would retire and move to a small coastal fishing village, where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take a siesta with your wife, and stroll in to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”
I like that piece it rings very true. My only worry is that unlike the good ol senor I can't only sip alcohol meaning I would need a bigger ship so I can afford to gulp it down!
ReplyDelete