I’m Bored

Back in 2000, I’d been working at my job for thirteen years. It was the standard corporate gig, with standard corporate hours, and standard corporate boredom. It wasn’t a bad job, really, but it wasn’t really doing much for me either. I’d gone as far as I could go and I realized I needed to find something where I could make more of a difference. Your basic small-fish-big-pond syndrome.

So I threw together a resume and, once completed, remarked at how unremarkable I appeared on paper. “That’s it?” I thought, looking over thirteen years of my so-called career. The lack of variety alone told me I was making the right choice. I put myself out there, snagged a few interviews, and soon landed a new job. As a fish, I wasn’t any larger. But the pond sure was a heck of a lot smaller.

I worked there only about half a year, until another opportunity presented itself. No need to go into all the details; but long story short: the family packed everything up and moved to Austin, Texas where I joined a startup toward the tail end of the dot-com boom. Having splashed down in the smallest pond possible, I was bound to make a difference here.

Startup Life

This gig was my first real taste of long, long hours. After all, when you’re racing to launch a product (before burning through all the startup capital) the stakes are about as high as they get. Long hours weren’t about busy work. No, there was a Reason for it. We all shared a Purpose.

In spite of that, though: we failed. A new brand and a new business model replaced the original vision of the company. But this rejuvenation did little more than reset the countdown clock. The hard work and long hours continued, to ensure Try Number Two succeeded.

First Check

A couple years into this, I found myself working late one evening. when a birthday party showed up right at my desk. Sadly, years of gradual brain decay have prevented me from remembering the exact date or even who’s birthday it was. But what my failing memory does retain is a clear image of the family arriving, balloons and presents in tow, bringing the party directly to the party pooper.

It’s one of those times where you stop and take a hard look at yourself. “What am I doing? This is terrible. Just go home and have a life!” I’m sure there was some Looming and Important deadline. And there was both a Reason and a Purpose for the deadline. So like a good soldier, I stuck to my duty while quietly vowing this would be the last time.

What’s Worse Than a Small Startup?

After Try Number Two failed, I moved on to a slightly larger, more stable job. At first things seemed pretty normal, but then I got tasked with something important and the hours got long again. I could write a whole memoir about this gig alone, but to keep today’s blog post moving forward, the short version is: blah, blah, blah, work, blah, blah, blah, deadline, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

It turns out that a video game company is what’s worse than a small startup. Primarily because it feels like no matter how long the company has been in business, it never graduates past a startup mentality. Short on time, short on resources, and everything is an emergency.

Fast forward to 2012. I had my little medical issue. We were in the midst of something Important with some Deadline when cancer derailed my participation. More than one person blamed my illness on “working too much.” While I don’t believe it outright caused it, I don’t think it helped anything either.

It’s one of those times where you stop and take a hard look at yourself. “What am I doing? This is terrible. Just go to the hospital and try not to die.”

The good news is, I did go to the hospital and I didn’t die. By fall of that year, I was back to work and with a new outlook on life. A new outlook which lasted maybe three months before the old ways came back. I kept grinding away at it, for reasons I can’t fully get into today, until early 2014 when I realized I needed to do something else.

Full Circle

It only took fourteen years, but I’d made it back to where I started: a large company. Swimming around relatively unnoticed in a large pond, I realized, sure had merit. As I settled into my new desk I began to think this nine-to-five thing might just be what the doctor ordered.

Unfortunately, I left one very important factor out of my calculations: me.

Granted: “me”, in and of myself, isn’t a bad thing. I’m a nice enough person. I possess a modicum of skill in my profession. I shower every day. But I also suffer from imposter syndrome. I’m a perfectionist. And I carry around a disproportionate sense of duty.

Everything culminated in a project this year which kept me from just about every other aspect of my life. When people would see me working late and ask, “What’s going on?” I grew fond of answering with, “I overestimated the amount of work while severely underestimating my abilities.”

I’ve debated for weeks now about how much detail I should cover in this singular blog post. During this entire period, I’ve constantly wavered between outright pride and utter embarrassment. For now, I’ll err on the side of caution and just leave it at this: I worked more overtime than I ever have in my career.

On the upside, I was focused. On the downside? Basically everything else. And for all of the reasons in the “downside” column, I’ve sworn this off for good.

I know, I know. I’m still me. I always have been (and always will be) my own worst enemy. But more than ever before, I honestly feel this is the last time where I stop and take a hard look at myself and ask, “What am I doing?”

We’ll explore the answer next week.