As a culture we romanticize the DIY, the living of live on your own terms, the standing tall with nothing to lose. I can confidently say there’s not a thing romantic in worrying about rent - even moreso when you’ve told your now-burdened girlfriend that you’ll land something anyday now… half a year later.
Those six months of job hunting were brutal, demoralizing, and every “sure thing” inevitably turned to ash in my hands. I took the first job I was offered, the best choice out of the pool numbering one. I didn’t feel proud about my “decision”, but at least I didn’t end up at a known misery (i.e. Amazon). My offer wasn’t even full-time, it was intended to try me on as you would pants. I let the resentment of that 90-day on-trial period seep into my everyday, the lone contractor in a sea of established employees, and I couldn’t see the future beyond my own upturned nose and imaginary hurt. What I should have been was grateful. Instead I let myself be disappointed in myself. (Which is never a good way to treat anyone.)
Last week I accepted a full-time job offer at the company I resigned myself to showing up at, and as I contemplated my fit in the world and at this company I realized it was the perfect island of misfit toys. The levels of dysfunction, historic failure, and fear of the alpha men in charge created an atmosphere just begging for someone to call the Emperor out on his naked bullshit. I just happen to stand six foot four and have nothing to lose.
The cast of characters at this startup are a sitcom in the making, and in my old age I’m finding that my love of entertainment value might exceed my need to align with company values. There is a penchant among the Directors of Nothing for wearing dress shirts buttoned just above Fabio level, sans undershirt. They unknowingly bring a wealth of Euro-gigolo, raising and/or sinking the “dress for success” game to a whole new level. This is in stark contrast to the Mötley Crüe of us expected to implement their questionable vision: pants riding high above our socks, bearded and opinionated, young and eager, antisocial and angry, intentionally oblivious and brilliant….. most importantly both welcoming and helpful. This company built around a specific kind of female empowerment is marked most starkly by the abundance of dirty dishes left in the sink, mostly by the men in charge, inevitably to be cleaned up by a woman that never realized “maid” was part of her job description.
My peers at this place are reason enough to stay, my amusement of the Lead By Title Not Example keeps the everyday most interesting. It’s the kind of company you have to explain to people, awkward and below-the-radar and kind of perfect for me. I feel like I’ve shown an old man with bad habits a new way to live, and much of my fun has always been to stir up righteous revolt in every established system. And I too feel like an out-of-touch old man – being told I’ve done a good job is something I haven’t heard in nearly five years. It’s amazing how much being on a collaborative team has improved my outlook on life. Nature might abhor a vacuum but it’s nothing compared to what a vacuum can do to a man. This irregular puzzle piece has found his fit, and the sense of relief brings an inexplicable salty fluid to my optic transducers.
I will always adore the startup, the underdog, the complete unknown, the ecstatic anticipation in watching that slow-rolling die, and the probably nevers in our lives.
Who wants to be the largest gear of the most proven machine, anyway?
(answer: sane people)
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