The Fisherman

I was called into an impromptu meeting with my boss. I had been with the company for about six months and our relationship was still in its beginning stages; surface level conversation without much depth. The topic of the conversation was something that I had not spent much time thinking about, it didn’t keep me up at night, I never spent a thousand words exploring it in this blog. It dawned on her that despite our close working quarters and daily conversations, she had never asked me what in retrospect is a pretty important question for her to understand.

“What motivates you?”

I don’t know how many people are prepared to answer that question, but I recommend taking some time to figure out your own response. Quick on my feet, I put together a response that was not only accurate, but has proven so well-aligned with the rest of my life that it’s become something of which I can be proud. Before I said anything, she told me that vacation time was her motivation. Employee incentives rewarded a few extra days, up to five, if you were a high-performing employee the year prior. Every extra day she could travel or relax was worth the investment. So what about me?

“Work-life balance.”

Which might not have been the answer she wanted to hear, now that I think about it. But I could not have better summed the reason I get out of bed in the morning. I want to do enough and do it well enough to do what I want. If you get too heavy on the work side, you forget the reason why you’re working. What’s the point of busting your ass in the office if the rest of your life is passing you by? So you can retire at 50? Great. Have fun going snowboarding with a replaced hip. If you get too heavy on the life side, then you can’t possibly expect to maintain your lifestyle. Take two months off to travel Europe? Phenomenal. Now here’s some debt that will haunt your next decade.

The benefits of balance should be so apparent. I’m not a prophet or a revolutionary or even a qualified professional, but I know feeling. And I know sadness. And I know happiness. I once underwrote a quote from ‘The Pursuit of Happiness’ describing the pursuit as the true representation of happiness, but in my maturing years I’ve come to the realization that that’s bullshit. Happiness is not a slippery, elusive, morphing, contorting, phantom that always rests inches beyond your grasp. Happiness might not be material, but I’ll be damned if it’s not real and attainable.

I spent my fair share of time without it, so I know what it feels like to have it. I spent time shuffling my feet, bullied, timid, and lonely. And while I might not have been facing clinical depression or active thoughts of self-mutilation, but I knew I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t confident, I wasn’t self-aware, and I was not living up to my full potential. Every teach in my life was correct: great potential, lacks motivation.

Well here it is, in the simple words of a former, awesome colleague: work hard, play hard.

I found a profession that instills confidence, creativity, and passion. I found people in my life that instill compassion, comradery, and a sense of belonging. And I found activities and hobbies that stimulate my senses and engage my mind. And I’m not willing to sacrifice any of it, at least not yet. Because the end game is already here. It’s the end of the movie when Will Smith’s character says “this part is called happiness.” Don’t let life pass you by because you think that happiness is the destination. There is no destination. Happiness is real, attainable, and simple. Find balance in your life the rest will fall into place.

I want to end with a short story that I heard told by Al Madrigal on the Pete Holmes podcast You Made It Weird. I found a slightly different version that I edited again, but the point is identical and the message is clear. Check out the podcast if you’re into that kind of thing, but more importantly, read the story.

An American investment banker was at the pier of a coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The banker complimented the fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.
The fisherman replied, "only a little while." The banker then asked why didn’t he stay out longer and catch more fish. The fisherman said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs. “But what do you do with the rest of your time?"The fisherman replied, "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siestas with my wife, then stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos." The banker scoffed, "I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing, and distribution. You could leave this village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually New York City where you will run your expanding enterprise.""How long will this all take?""15 – 20 years.""What then?"The banker laughed, "That’s the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would be a millionaire!""Millionaire – then what?"The banker said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siestas with your wife, and stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos."