📘 Time > money (and literally everything else)

Context for the making of The Dad and the rest of my life

The Dad Story continues…

We left off in 2015. I wrote a 5 year corporate escape plan that involved learning to create decent enough content to get published places and land a legit freelance gig. I built The Glad Stork to 10k+ followers (but it took 3 years). I left GE for a job at 84.51.

At this point, I thought about the escape plan a lot. I worked really hard on making it a reality.

Why? Why not just be satisfied with my otherwise stable job? Can’t you just be happy with what others would kill for? I admit, even now, that everything in my life was a blessing. Honestly. I am still so grateful for all the opportunities I’ve had. I was very privileged even to be in the position I was in.

Maslow’s hierarchy of needs says once you have your base needs met, you move up the pyramid and focus on fulfillment and helping others. Emphasis on helping others mine, I’m shocked it’s not listed on this example I found on the goog:

For me, it was all about time.

Even though I loved the people and the culture at 84.51, I still sat in weekly 4 hour meetings about nothing, and I was uncomfortably anxious. What am I doing here? I have all these ideas swirling around in my head. I’d love to work on them. But I’m here, nearly against my will, doing… not much.

Every day I woke up super early, got my 3 year old son ready, and took him to daycare. He cried, screamed, and clung to me. Shouting, “PLEASE… DON’T… LEAVE… ME.” I sat in my car in the parking lot. I cried too some days. It was heartbreaking. I didn’t want to leave him either. Then I would get in line on the highway to make my way downtown. My commute was an hour each way, often more, depending on traffic. I sat there, slowly inching forward, staring at the car in front of me, thinking about the ways I’d prefer to use the time. Writing, reading, creating, coding, and most of all, spending more time with my kids, who would only be little once.

A little while after I started, managers had to attend a week long leadership training course. My speculation is that there was concern about the management skills of several key leaders, but instead of pulling those folks aside to discuss, or *gasp* demoting or changing their roles, every leader was required to attend a training. Guess what? Usually when this happens, the managers who need it most are the ones who think “Ah yes, this is for all of you other crap managers! I don’t need this.” And they don’t attend.

So there I sat, roleplaying, literally pretending to have a “difficult conversation” with a person who works for me, who was in this case, just another manager pretending to be that underperforming employee. She took notes and told me how I could deliver the message more effectively.

This was a memorable day, for many reasons.

Earlier that day, I got my Scary Mommy freelance contract. I was so excited to get home, sign that bad boy, and get to work on a massive step forward with my escape plan. Actual email from Jill:

At this point, I took the bus to and from downtown, allowing me to write (on my phone) during the commute. Training ran over. I dipped out and hustled to the bus stop. I missed the bus I wanted.

As I stood there waiting for the next bus, my phone vibrated. It was my stepmom. She was frantic. My dad collapsed after cutting the grass on a hot day.

I calmly responded that I’m sure he’ll be okay. Have him drink some water. I’ll get there as soon as I can.

I boarded my bus, concerned about my dad but sure it’s nothing. I reviewed the Scary Mommy contract on my phone, squeezed in tightly next to a fellow passenger on the crowded bus.

My phone vibrated. It was my stepmom. It was difficult to understand what she said, but I made it out.

“You don’t have to hurry. He’s dead.”

It felt like a huge weight slammed into my chest. I gasped so hard I could barely breath. I was stunned. All the people on the bus disappeared. The bus itself disappeared and I was riding in a haze of shock and sadness. Everything slowed and time stood still. No no no. This isn’t real. It can’t be. I’ve never had anyone this close to me die.

My mind raced and time crawled for the rest of the excruciating bus ride. To me I was completely alone. But looking back, I imagine all the people around me. The lady sitting next to me, trying to act distracted, while I quietly sobbed.

The bus pulled into the Meijer parking lot to the park and ride and I sprinted to my car, driving to my dad’s house to confirm the unthinkable.

My dad was 62 and 1/2. I know this because that’s when you are able to first receive social security. Many of us count down the days to retirement. My dad had a series of jobs he hated later in life. So this was especially true for him. He was days from retirement.

Look, there are a few reasons I chose to tell this story.

Most importantly, I spend a lot of words here whining over relatively meaningless crap. Waa waa I had a stressful job. Waa waaaaa my cushy cubicle job was boring. In the end, none of that shit matters. It all pales in comparison to the inescapable truth that all of this is temporary. We’re only here a short while. Life is all about the people we love, our experiences with each other, and the memories that we make. That’s number one. Everything else is wayyyyy down the priority list. Everything.

That only underscores the importance of not taking your time for granted.

Imagine somebody comes up to you, and randomly steals a small possession of yours. Your favorite pen, a turkey sandwich you made for lunch, or an ENTIRE ONE DOLLAR BILL. You’d be angry. What the hell? You can’t do that!

But routinely we let people take time from us for no reason at all. We attend optional 4 hour meetings during which nothing is accomplished and nobody wants to be there, even the person who scheduled it. Or we’ll spend hours rage reading social media or rage watching opinion “news.”

Things and money are replaceable. Time is not. One day you will be out of time, and you can’t buy anymore. Your kids will be old. You’ll be sick in the hospital. And all of the material things you worked so hard for will not even cross your mind for a second. You’ll give it all for more time.

I know it’s depressing. I’m sorry to hit you with this on a Monday morning. But it’s (all caps) IMPORTANT. I’m not saying quit your job and spend every day making unbroken intense eye contact with your kids. If you love your job, pour your heart and soul into it. Even if you’re satisfied with your job and you adore the people you work with, keep that going.

I’m saying be conscious of how you’re using your finite time. JUST BE CONSCIOUS OF IT. Make sure it aligns with your values.

(Yep, that could even mean making memes or playing video games with internet strangers.)

When a parent dies, you become a new person entirely.

I heard that a long time ago but didn’t understand it. It’s hard to fathom until it happens to you.

It changes you. Something happens inside of you.

(I can’t even begin to imagine what this is like for those who have lost a child.)

But the person who got off of that bus on that day in 2016 was different from the person who got on it.

I miss my dad. I am overwhelmed with sadness that he may have had regrets or things he wanted to do but didn’t get to do.

And I know it’s stupid but I’m sad that my dad never got to see The Dad.

So yeah, this story is important context for the making of The Dad.

But to be honest with you, this story is context for the rest of my entire life. When someone close to you dies, it paints everything you do from that moment forward in a different light.

Reeling in mourning and sadness, I replied to Jill the next day.

“Thank you, Jill. I'm excited to get started as well...”