Work? Nah. I'd Much Rather Play
David Thompson, 02 Oct 2008
I haven’t worked in nearly five years. And I’ve never been better off.
Of course, I have been busy. And, by some people’s definition of the term, you could probably make the case that I have been gainfully employed throughout that time. But what I would definitely say is that for the last five years, I have revelled in pretty much every minute of activity as a coach, trainer and communications consultant.
Admittedly, part of that enjoyment comes from the very nature of what I do. I am privileged enough to make my way in the world by helping successful people achieve even better results through improving their communication – with their colleagues, their clients, various media outlets and themselves. And that beats workin’ by about a million miles.
But the difference that makes the difference between working for a living and creating abundance isn’t just in what you do – it’s in how you do it. As a result of a wide range of choices, I’ve learned how to take rapturous pleasure in what I do – and I actively choose to do so.
It wasn’t always like this. On the contrary, a good deal of my working life was spent in exactly the opposite state. For 10 years, off and on, I worked for one of the world’s largest and most successful public relations firms, leading account activity from offices in Washington DC, Munich, and London.
On paper, I had a great job – one that many people might envy. But despite doing pretty well at it (by the time I was 26, I was a Vice President with pan-European responsibility for one of the agency’s largest accounts), I was miserable. I was prone to outbursts of anger and frustration, I often clashed with colleagues, and I was mired in the petty jealousies and office politics that I professed to despise. Perhaps not surprisingly, I kept waiting to be exposed as the fraud I thought I was. Besides, I wasn’t really a PR person – I was an ACTOR at heart.
So I quit.
I left my job and in a mad desire to unleash the artist I so hoped lurked beneath my suited shell, I pursued a Master’s Degree in Shakespearean Theatre and started working as an actor and director in London. Finally, a life rich with meaning in pursuit of truth and beauty.
Hi-diddlee-dee – an actor’s life for me, as the Fox from Pinocchio sings. The joy of treading the boards, the smell of greasepaint and all that jazz.
Problem was, I hated that too.
Even though I was doing what I thought I loved, I found myself succumbing to the same old fits of anger, the same old outbursts of rage and frustration that I’d known so well when I worked in PR. The same worries and stresses about being good enough, about being talented enough, about being exposed as a fraud. It didn’t really matter that I was involved in performing in, directing or producing the plays of Shakespeare (loves of my life since my teens), I was still bitter, jealous and tetchy as hell. And I was dirt poor to boot. No question about it – the starving part of the life of the starving artist sucks bloody donkey.
So I went back to my old PR firm. This time it’ll be different, I thought. Now that I’ve gotten the theatre thing out of my system, I can settle down do well – focused, calm, confident. You can guess how well that went. Same frustrations, same patterns. Over and over again.
It wasn’t until I found Jesus . . .
No, just kidding.
It wasn’t until I realised that I was choosing to be so frustrated, that I was, however unconsciously, opting to repeat patterns of anger and self-pity, that I began to snap out of this slump. I began to recognise, not unlike Bill Murray’s character in Groundhog Day, that life doesn’t have to suck – that, in fact, life is and will always be exactly what you decide to make of it. Wherever you are. Whatever you’re doing.
Those thoughts were the first steps for me along a road of development and discovery that I’m still following – with joy. Since realising how much of my experience actually was within my own power to change, opportunities have abounded. I was headhunted from the global PR firm to run a smaller, more dynamic arts-sponsorship consultancy – a gig that was great fun. When I thought I’d have an even better time running my own business, I found a replacement for myself at the smaller firm and then set up on my own in mid-2004. And I’ve not looked back since.
So what’s my intention in writing about all of this – to boast? Maybe, but not really. I’m writing about this to remind anyone reading that once you recognise just how much of the quality of your experience lies within your ability to influence, you’re off to the races. For so many years, I found only disappointment and frustration. Upon discovering that I was responsible for my own happiness – and actively embracing that responsibility – well, stuff’s gotten a whole lot better. And I haven’t worked a day since.
