When I was little(r) I played the “when I grow up” game. I knew what I wanted to be, it was going to be fun and exciting and ever so adventurous. I would change the world! I did not sit and think “You know what, I want to be a data analyst”. It just happened that what I have is an aptitude for crunching numbers and making spreadsheets. I was never going to be a NBA basketballer so I choose the world of Excel and datasets.
I was going to be doing any number of different occupations, I had the whole world in front of me and nothing to stop me. So what happened?
I was going to be:
- a zoologist
- an archaeologist
- a film maker
- a writer
- an international cricketer
- the gorram ruler of the world!
So why would I do what I do? It’s all to do with working to live and not living to work. Building amazing MI dashboards and identifying trends to improve sales means I get paid nicely for doing so, and this allows me to buy pretty things. I like pretty things. By no means do I hate my job, I do enjoy the feeling of seeing a piece of work I have put together help someone else to do their job in a better and more efficient way. Yet I am not under the illusion that a well written piece of VBA code is better than sex. However, if someone does show me a poorly put together spreadsheet I do feel affronted by it.
For twenty years I’ve been able to put off taking a path I wanted to take and why? What has prevented me from following my lofty ambitions? Easy…stuff. My optimistic childhood has been ruined by the acquisition of things. Dreams don’t buy shiny things, money does. And money comes from jobs that aren’t satisfying. It’s the rules, even footballers hate their jobs now they get paid so much.
One of the best interviews I have read is with the footballer Benoit Assou-Ekotto, he was asked about how he saw football and replied, “For a job. A career is only 10, 15 years. It’s only a job. Yes, it’s a good, good job and I don’t say that I hate football but it’s not my passion. I arrive in the morning at the training ground at 10.30 and I start to be professional. I finish at one o’clock and I don’t play football afterwards.”
I need to get rid of stuff then I can do something I want to. Why am I putting it off? I am statistically 39.5% through my time on this planet and why am I spending it accumulating things? What is more important, you or what you own? The Egyptians thought you could take your possessions on with you and now they have ended up as relics being displayed for gawkers in museums.
I should quit my job. I should take a stand and so “No Mr Bank Manager! I want to do something I want to do and I shall be poor but I shall be happy”.
This shall my line in the sand, the moment I say I will no longer put off my dreams, I shall look after animals, and direct movies, pick up a bat I shall invade France.
But I am also lazy.
And I still have 60.5% of my time to go, I’ll do it…tomorrow…when I grow up.