The satisfaction silver bullet
I am writing this from a screened-in porch overlooking a field of lupines and willows. Hens are roaming freely in a soft oceanic breeze and the sun is creeping up in the sky. It’s 6 am in Camden, Maine, roughly 1,000 miles away from our company HQ and my home in Columbus, Ohio. And I’m working.
I am privileged in many different aspects of my life; I consider my work premier among them — its ability to provide for my family, keep my intense brain engaged, and the flexibility it allows to not miss out on the really important stuff. When I decided years ago to ditch an exhausting, office-based agency job to venture into startup land, I developed a guiding motto. It is my rubric for deciding whether or not to stay in a job, especially when things are tough.
Here’s my secret formula:
Am I learning something new?
Am I having fun?
Learning is a no-brainer. I’m like a German Shepherd, if you leave me alone at home without a puzzle to solve, I’ll eat the couch. No matter how difficult or even unenjoyable a type of work is, I can typically ride it out for a short period as long as I’m learning something new.
The fun one is trickier. It’s harder to decipher the fun through the inevitable stress that will come and go in any job. But there are definitely some things that are not fun.
Missing the chance to attend some summer sprinkler Fridays at my toddler’s Montessori school.
Worrying about whether I have the flexibility to take my infant to his 4-month checkup.
Dreaming about someday taking an amazing trip but never doing it.
These things are not fun and therefore would not pass my litmus test. Flexibility and fun are intertwined. I adore my coworkers but not as much as my family. The idea of spending the vast majority of my waking hours with only them and missing out on the good stuff is crushing. Opportunities to teach my kids about adventure and the perspective that comes from travel are worth the trade-off for almost anything else — money included.
You might say that a 947-mile road trip with a toddler and an infant doesn’t sound like much fun, and depending on the mile and the decibel level inside my Subaru Forrester, I may be inclined to agree with you. But to each his own, eh?
I can hear you saying: You’re not working, you’re on vacation. If I give others your level of flexibility, how will I know that they are working?
Well, you’re reading this, aren’t you? I had to write, edit, format, research and read the industry articles, set up the Mailchimp triggers, inform my team about this month’s content topic… it’s all work. I did it all in Maine. And as far as I’m aware nobody was worried about whether or not I would get it (or anything else on my plate) done. I’ve proven my reliability before. I’ve earned my freedom. I’m not proposing that this is feasible for every employee — this is actually pretty extreme. But erring on the side of freedom allows people to rise to your expectations. Kind of like asking your kids to keep their shit together on a transcontinental road trip allows them to rise to the occasion… or not.
But I can’t fire my kids.
They are predicting a “Great Resignation,” the wave of people leaving their jobs after a hasty return to work effort that leaves people devoid of the freedoms they have grown accustomed to over the course of the pandemic. Estimates are as high as 40% of people considering changing jobs.
What we’re experiencing right now is my generation’s Walden pond. A piercing call through the chaos and noise to focus back on the essential truths of our lives, to eliminate the practices that weren’t serving us well, to rethink the whole shebang. Money doesn’t seem to do the trick anymore in the talent race. It’s certainly not my primary motivator. I’m not going to make any Forbes wealthiest lists but I’ve clearly got enough to rent myself a little Airbnb in Maine and live the rest of the year more than comfortably in a lovely suburb of Columbus. I already told you my kid goes to Montessori school, so you know I can’t be totally broke.
So, let me ask you, as I sit on this beautiful porch watching the 6 am sun rising over the tippy-top of the eastern seaboard: why would I ever leave my job?
