This is about my brother (I’ll call him Stephen).
Stephen feels in his heart that he’s destined to become an entrepreneur. He’s chased this dream for the past decade. Now he’s 36, beyond broke (he can’t deposit what little money he earns into a bank out of fear it’ll be diverted to creditors), and alone (his only social contacts are my younger brother and parents on weekends). Nevertheless, despite what those of us that care for him plainly see, Stephen adamantly refuses to budge a microstep from his present course.
This afternoon, my parents called to tell me that Stephen doesn’t have money for this month’s rent, nor for food. Stephen told them he’s waiting for an inexplicably delayed payment from his employer. Similar crises occur once or twice a year. As with previous instances, my folks gave their support (not rent this time, but some fresh fruit and groceries to tide him over), but not without a pang in their hearts that perhaps this is not the best way to help Stephen.
Stephen currently works selling health insurance (other jobs in the past ten years included a pyramid sales operation-lost his shirt, a Taiwanese import venture-got screwed by his partner, and a business to business marketing position-company went belly-up). He’s been with the same firm for nearly two years. His entire salary is based on commission and he receives no benefits. This situation provides the utmost in freedom and self-guidance; since he’s no drain on the company’s finances, his productivity is immaterial from the perspective of his superiors. In addition, given that income is fixed as a percentage of sales, his earning potential is theoretically unlimited. These qualities, freedom and unlimited potential, leave him giddy with prospects.
Stephen tells me he’s cut from a different cloth. Incapable of being another working stiff, under the stern yoke of bungling managers, Stephen asserts his personal manifest destiny of ascension to lofty executive heights. Someday, a million bucks will be his pocket change.
When I telephoned my brother-in-crisis yesterday, he was watching the Women’s finals at the US Open. I wondered how genuine could his entrepreneurial gumption be if at this critical time (no money for rent or food) he’d be idling the day away. I posed this question directly and he informed me that this is exactly the course any executive type would take given these circumstances.
Stephen comes from a background not of privilege but not of want either. We grew up on the North Shore of Long Island as the imperfect offspring of imperfect parents, but with far from a dysfunctional family. In his late teens and early twenties, Stephen was the paragon of fiscal restraint. He worked throughout college. Admirably, Stephen paid his entire tuition from savings and wages (in contrast, I took a free ride on the Mommy and Daddy express). He attained a degree in chemistry and worked for 2-3 years as a middle manager in a blood-testing facility. He hated this job; he was shat on from above and below. Notwithstanding, pay was good and he worked a 40 hours week. This job ended abruptly as his division was phased out. From there, he embarked on his decade-long career folly.
Each time he stumbled, my family enjoined him to consider another path: Teach, scrub floors, stock shelves, what about P.A. school, be a paramedic. Every suggestion met with his fierce opposition and our acquiescence. Honestly, I was proud of him at those times. He was willing to forgo comfort and security in the pursuit of his dreams. Ten year later, though, dreams are all he has to show for these efforts.
Stephen refuses all of our advice. “We don’t understand him,” “We’re not business folk like him,” “He could NEVER work a regular job.” He maintains that given our career trajectories, nobody in my family is in a position to advise him. However, that flies in the face of reason. My Mom is a retired teacher who worked her entire adult life. My Dad is a retired upper manager in the computer field. My younger brother is a successful software engineer. I am an MD/PhD dermatology resident. Yet, not one of us has enough insight to give him direction.
We are near wits end. Whispers of Tough Love are in the wind. Stephen has neither a substance dependence nor overt mental illness. What can we do to help him transition to lifestyle with higher lows and lower highs and generally more stability?