L ike many, I returned to my hometown for Thanksgiving. Like many, I saw family and caught up with old friends. I am still pretty close with my buddies from high school, so we made a point to see each other. The troops rallied for a reunion at the SweetWater Brewery in downtown Atlanta. Afterward, we had dinner in a sleek underground restaurant complete with a bar, old arcade games, a bocce ball court and food better than my aunt’s famous Thanksgiving spread.
Only a short time ago in my memory, these well-dressed, sophisticated, beer-drinking adults were mere children. These were the kids I gossiped with in the parking lot after school while we waited for our moms’ SUVs to roll into view. The same friends who were only recently struggling to pass high school Spanish and make the junior varsity track team are now studying finance and accounting, computer science and marketing. One has even landed a job with a hotshot “Big Four” public accounting firm in Atlanta.
Here was a glimpse into the life of the young professional — a life I am, as of yet, very far from since employment is a key first step to that lifestyle. All these college seniors destined for professional success, and what the hell am I doing? I’m hiking and climbing, volunteering at a garden and writing a column hardly anybody reads.
It took me a few hours of self-reflective moping to remember that, surprisingly, I don’t enjoy finance or accounting. I am on a different path, but it’s one that I chose. It’s a wandering trail, not a straight shot to a career, but that’s the way I like it. I might end up leading Outward Bound trips. I might end up working for a solar energy company. I might end up in Antarctica reporting on Emperor Penguin research. Who knows. I also might end up waiting tables to pay my rent, but as long as it’s a temporary gig, that’s all right with me.
There’s nothing wrong with seeking financial stability. In fact, a steady job is a great thing if you’re looking to fund even more elaborate adventures on your time off. As my father is fond of saying, “You’ve got your whole life to work.” Youth is a much smaller window. The years when I can sleep in a tent for a month and not mind, the years when I can carry everything I need on my back, the years when I can hitchhike and wander and hold odd jobs without worrying about driving the children to soccer practice — that time is slipping away by the hour.
Climbing the ladder to a killer career is a laudable ambition. There’s nothing wrong with becoming a working professional, but doing that straight out of college sometimes requires the tunnel vision of focused ambition. Sacrifices have to be made for prodigy to blossom, but for me, the chance to have adventures is not something I’m willing to give up. I want to find a career doing something I love, and I haven’t found it yet. I want the search to be worthwhile.
Youth is too short to spend in a cubicle. Life is too short to be a young professional.
