Success redefined MY former career and much of my identity came to an end 18 months ago when I was informed that my job as vice president of corporate finance had been downsized, and me with it. This was just before the recession hit, along with the market crash, and I was certain I would find another job. What I didn't realize was that the entire industry I was working in would never again be the same. For months I looked for another position comparable to what I had once been. I was at first stunned by my failure to find a new job and then eventually depressed. The need for insurance within my family and the demands of debt and bills required that I find another job quickly. At no time in my thirty-year career in finance did it ever occur to me for a moment that I would ever take a blue collar job. My identity was in my white collar, my office, my MBA, my pinstriped suits and my silk ties, my Lexus, mirror-shined Italian shoes, my Cartier watch, the suburban home I shared with my family and my executive job title. I have since lost all of it except the most important thing – my family. Our house and my Lexus were gone. But before we moved into a small apartment, I had the challenge of my life from our former garbageman. I had seen him every Monday for years as I got into my car and he emptied the trash cans. That last day, however, the invisible wall of privilege and status that had kept me apart had collapsed, and he offered me a job as a garbageman. A garbageman! Me! Mister White Collar Executive! I responded with annoyance and sarcasm. He then proceeded to tell me to swallow my pride and my arrogance and get down off my high horse. I had to face facts. He was offering me a job with benefits. I was in no position to turn it down. With the support of my family, I started the following day. I would like to say it went well immediately, but it didn't. I rebelled and fought the final stripping of my former white collar identity every step of the way. I had not had a menial job since high school. I was sore and sweating and tired when I got home, like all the others in my position. There was nothing special about me, and I had to realize that. I did indeed have to come down off my high horse and throw away my former definition of success. I had to accept and finally embrace the new blue collar self that I had become. Everything has changed, and a hundred small details illustrate this. I used to be neat, clean shaven and dapper. That is impossible now. I no longer not put on a crisp, tailored pinstriped business suit in the morning. I put on dirty coveralls with a name tag. A silk necktie and a starched white shirt for a garbageman are ridiculous. I am picked up by a garbage truck now; I no longer step into a Lexus. A lunch bucket has replaced my leather briefcase. I tried to keep my corporate haircut but gave up after a few weeks and after a push from my new colleagues, surrendered my hair to a much cooler crew cut, and I have even allowed a beard to grow: unimaginable in my old life of corporate appearances. My new boss told me to take off the “fancy” watch, so that is gone. I must admit that others no longer see me in the same way. There is less respect. I am treated with a condescension that I had never experienced. I am a laborer now and I'm no longer called sir! Even my name has been changed. Well, it has not changed literally. My first name is Roger. I was told that is not a name for a garbage man! So I am now ‘Jimbo', which is short for my middle name James. And the mirror-polished Italian leather shoes I used to be so proud of and kept in perfect condition in their shoe trees have given way to work boots and I even wear a different shoe size: my size ten wingtips fit with the black dress socks I once wore. Now heavy sweat socks fit with size eleven work boots. Every small change is a symbol of the transformation I have experienced. Yet as this has happened I have realized that so much of my identity was formed by my career, my clothes and my car that I did not know who I was. I had to admit, very slowly, that my definition of success was shallow and inadequate. I also – slowly – came to realize that I was working hard at my new job and bringing home a paycheck again and that was something to be proud of. I found myself thinking less and less of my old life and started finding satisfaction in my new job. I was still looking for another corporate position but the recession was gathering steam and only part time work was offered. I had to have the insurance and the security of a regular job. So my blue collar self took over more and more of my identity as Jimbo the garbageman pushed out the last traces of Roger the executive. My understanding of success is completely different now. All of the outer symbols have been taken away in a purging process. I have had to find a new success based on my inner self. It is a work in progress, but I am on my way. – lifesip.com No need to fret When there are just too many things to do, my natural response is to fret and fear. But an inner voice tells me that both are forbidden. Fret not. Fear not. That tells me what not to do. What, then, should I do? Sit still and ponder. There will be both time and strength as the course before us is not an obstacle course. When everything is done we will realize that the path carefully planned to suit us – not too rigorous for our limitations, not too lenient for our strengths. We cannot accomplish anything by panicking. Just have faith, whether the task is simple or appears overwhelming.
