I had the opportunity to spend an afternoon last weekend with a group of young men, recently graduated or soon to be from San Diego State University. The topic was career planning and how to go about getting that first job after college. I and another alumnus served as living fossils from whom these newly minted adults could learn the archeology of a life’s work.
[Note: This column appeared in the San Diego Daily Transcript in May of 2009. Nearly five years later, it still seems relevant.]
With apologies to Hunter S. Thompson for ripping off the title of his seminal book on the political and social zeitgeist of the early 1970’s, it seems overdue for a look at this era’s fear-based milieu, and a comparison to Thompson’s time.
“Stan, they could pay me a whole lot less if they treated me better”, Jacob said as he sipped his standard morning black coffee at what we call Starbucks North. Jacob and I have been meeting at one or the other of two Starbucks about once a month for the last three years. The subject of our regular meetings has been an ongoing project to create a life that combines the best of what he loves about his work with a feeling of being appreciated and respected for his significant contributions.
Many of my life lessons come from overhearing conversations. And if they occur in the sauna, well, the pithiness is directly proportional to the sogginess of the speaker.
“I’ve tried Epsom salts for that. It works pretty well,” said the woman to her sweating companion. The temperature gauge showed 140 degrees Fahrenheit.
“I thought it was called Ibsen salts..?” pondered her companion.
“No, you’re thinking of Buddy Ibsen, the guy who played the patriarch of the Beverly Hillbillies”, she corrected him. “You know, the guy who missed his dinner but shot a hole in his land that gushed oil.”
