I think I finally figured it out after my boss' boss was in front of me examining a golf club, turning it this way and that, the office lights shimmering along the polished rod. Then he looked up and I gave a brief smile before looking back at my monitor.
Corporate America is such a joke. It really is. Corporate America for the Single Christian. No one's written it yet, but I would buy it if there was such a book.
Nothing about my job bothered me inherently. I actually liked my responsibilities and duties for the most part. They were reasonable and interesting and I was paid well. But something was vaguely haunting knowing that this occupation was what I had worked so hard for. This was it. Because I felt like a foreigner in the bloodstream of young professionals and the white blood cells had caught on to me. Maybe it's how they like to talk about fast cars and steaks and pro football or how money is everything and advancement or whatever. I couldn't tell you.
But when Brad ran his hand up and down that iron picturing the Georgia greens, I decided this wasn't it. It's like when Merry looks over and says "I think we might have made a mistake leaving the Shire, Pippin."
I need to write a new future. I'm not quitting my job. But I've decided that that's what it is: a job. It isn't anything near the culmination of my identity. I hate it so much that America says the opposite. That's the poison that I hate so much: Your job is the culmination of your identity and money is the icing on the cake. Don't ever buy that. Never. Bob Goff says it pretty well:
Some time ago I stopped thinking about being a lawyer as a career. Instead, I think of it as just a day job. Thinking about work as a day job has made a big difference in the way I approach what I do. It's also helped me not to confuse who I am with what I do.