“It is never too late to be what you might have become.” This famous quotation is credited to Mary Ann Evans, writing under the pen name of George Eliot. I came across this statement again the other day in a magazine article. Although I have seen it many times before, I had to stop this time and ponder the implications of the message. Certainly, there must be limitations to this. For instance, I will never become the point guard for the Chicago Bulls. I’m too old and too short. However, just by saying that, I am already creating limits for myself which may not really exist. Michael Anthony Jerome “Spud” Webb was a professional basketball player. He played twelve seasons with the Atlanta Hawks and the Sacramento Kings. In 1986, Webb won the NBA Slam Dunk Contest. This may not seem newsworthy at first, except that Webb, playing a sport filled with giants, was only 5 feet, 7 inches tall. He did not see that as a limitation.
Career limitations are often created by those closest to us. Parents with professional careers would like to have children follow in their footsteps. Educators speak of the value of careers in law, medicine, and finance. I certainly don’t mean to belittle higher education, but they barely touch the surface of the options available.
I was out for dinner one day and struck up a conversation with the man beside me. He excused himself to take a phone call. When he returned, he explained the call was from his daughter in Australia and that she would be traveling to New Zealand. Some wealthy boat owners will hire a crew to deliver their boat to a new location, where they will take delivery. This woman’s job was to move luxury sailing yachts to exotic ports all over the world, and she gets paid to do it.
While visiting my sister in Florida, we drove to Marco Island and boarded a tourist boat to Cabbage Key, a tiny island in the Gulf of Mexico about the size of a postage stamp. There are few homes for permanent residents, a gift shop, and a restaurant that looks like something out of a Hemingway novel. There were no walls, and rough-hewn columns held up a thatched roof. The restaurant served tropical drinks with little parasols and a variety of seafood meals. After touring the island, we returned to the boat for the trip back to the mainland. After sitting for a while, I asked a crew member what we were waiting for. He pointed to a man on the dock and said, “Him.” The man, dressed in a colorful tee shirt, shorts, and a straw hat, was the harbor master on Cabbage Key. Nobody entered or left the marina until he gave approval. I thought to myself: “How do you get that job?”
Perhaps you would prefer a job with more of an adrenaline rush. The National Forest Service hires smokejumpers — firefighters who parachute into remote areas to battle wildfires. They are the first line of defense against a raging fire. Their job is to slow the blaze until ground-based crews arrive.
I once applied for an under-the-radar job. I was working in construction, was familiar with heavy equipment, was free to travel, and had working knowledge of explosives. I sent a letter and a resume to a company in Texas. The Red Adair Company fights oil well fires. I know that sounds dangerous, but I was not concerned. I figured the pay would be good, I would travel all over the world, and that death was something that only happened to other people. I didn’t get the job but got a nice letter thanking me for my inquiry.
I am telling you this to show that the variety of situations available to us is almost endless, but here is the key to them: we don’t find them; they find us. Business philosopher Jim Rohn once said, “Success is not something you pursue; it is something you attract by the person you become.” I am going to turn the normal approach to career searches on its head. I am not going to decide the ending. This is the path I am going to follow. How do we — or should I say I — travel this path when the goal is not clear? Instead of focusing on the destination, I will focus on the traveler.
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