The words flowed out of my mouth and echoed in my ears as though they'd been spoken by someone else.
"I want to do what I did in Brownwood, but not in Brownwood."
My friend nodded his head politely, then went back to drinking his third can of Pearl Light beer. I paused, contemplating what I'd just said and its gravity. For 27 months, I'd recoiled at the question, "what's next?" I dodged it. I ignored it. I got defensive. I retreated from friends for fear of being asked the question. Becoming a master of misdirection was never an intended consequence of my journey. This time, I spoke with confidence.
I'd spent the last two years, and many miles, soul-searching, trying new things, seeing different parts of the world, and testing different industries. Professionally, what have I learned during this time? In short, I'm a good engineer.
But what may have been intuitively obvious to the casual observer, I was willing to challenge and lay down for a long season. No pride. No past. No title. It was a chance to start completely over and make sure that was really my calling. This time, I know it is. It's more difficult than you can imagine having a conversation with a nice girl that goes something like this:
Nice Girl: "So, what do you do?"
Me: "I'm doing it right now."
Nice Girl: "What's that?"
Me: "Nothing."
Nice Girl: (gives polite smile while slowly backing away...)
I told a friend the other day that the further I get away from my experience in Brownwood, the better it was. I was so overwhelmed by my loneliness (as evidenced by my lack of writing) that I didn't appreciate what I was doing daily.
So, what was so great?
1. I served a friend. There is no higher level of accountability than working for someone with whom you have a friendship.
2. I had authority. Admittedly, I like being in charge.
3. I had the freedom to invent and really get creative. It was like "Apollo 13." I had limited data, a small budget, little to no equipment, but had to figure out how to create a new product in four months. No bureaucracy. No meetings. I stressed. I lost sleep. I loved it.
4. I was unique. I was the only degreed engineer out of everyone, so it was a far cry from being surrounded by 1,000 people just like me.
5. I had the perfect blend of office time, factory time, and field time. Some days, I closed my office door and worked on a cost model or did statistics and asked to be left alone. Other days, I was on a ladder with a maintenance guy troubleshooting why we'd lost exhaust, or asking my team lead how she'd improved product quality. I got to travel to another company to learn a new technology, then had freedom to make it happen in my friend's plant.
6. I left a legacy. No matter what you do, the testimony of a job well done is measured in the effectiveness of people after the person driving the change is gone. Few things made me happier than solving a problem with other people, involving them in the decision making process, even if the answer was obvious to me, so that they could solve problems after I was gone. "Empowering others" is a really a fancy way of saying "I trust you." It's a lousy manager who guards his or her power by not telling others what they did. I shared everything.
What I absolutely love is working with groups of people whose mission is to provide a tangible product or service. To wander into a mess, raise my hand and say, "Give me six months and the resources I need and I'll get it fixed." Making products or providing services that people use daily lets me know that I helped others. I'm not into weird electronic sub-components, but rather, things I use myself.So, that's the mystery answer and the ability to articulate this nearly makes me cry. Our culture says we can do whatever we put our minds to. That's not true at all. I tried. Instead, I found out what I was uniquely, purposefully, and fearfully made to do.
I don't know what's going to happen next so I'm casting a wide net, looking for consulting opportunities or small companies that want to grow. If you have ideas let me know. I pray hourly that God will open the door to the next assignment that He's already prepared, so that I can pursue things I've purposely delayed for a long, long time (i.e. relationships and other adventures). But now, in everything, I can say I'm available. Have calculator, will travel.
Onward.
JRH
Have calculator will travel is something you will never hear me say
Posted by: bib | June 06, 2010 at 09:39 PM
"In short, I'm a good engineer." And a very good writer.
Posted by: Cole | June 22, 2010 at 03:38 PM
This is beautiful, Joel. I enjoyed reading your heart and the reasons that drive you! I'm so proud of you, and I'm ready to see what the next step is going to be. Keep writing, too, as that is a lasting legacy you are leaving to those who love you.
Posted by: Kimberly Sanchez | June 22, 2010 at 04:49 PM