Let’s say you’ve got two job offers on the table. They look a-little somethin’ like this:
The Job You Want
Pros: This is what you went to college for, what you interned, unpaid, for. You love the way this job smells because every day smells like triumph under stupendous pressure. You’ve had a hard time getting an interview because it’s fairly exclusive. It’s hard to get in without experience.
Eventually one can make quite a bit of money and achieve some recognition, too. You like recognition. But most of all it’s fucking FUN, and you’re damn good at it.
Cons: It’s several hours away from your family and prospective fiance’. Couple that with the fact that your dream job pays only 32 hours a week at $7.50 an hour. That means taking on a second job while dealing with frequent bothering from your worry-wart family and whiny badgering from your girlfriend while making real ends meet. Now, you’ve got a bit socked away that needs to go in to a new(er) vehicle because your 203,000 mile beater’s got two wheels in the junkyard, but Mommy thinks you’ll need a nice apartment and Fiance needs a piece of glittering fucking carbon pressed into circular, decorative, metal receptacle.
Financially, you’re pulling at strings here. But goddammit, this is the fucking break, THE fucking job that could get you where you want to go. No insurance, paycheck to paycheck, but this could be where the Legend Begins.
The Job That Pays
Pros: $30,000 per year…for starters. You’re selling shit over the phone, but at least it’s not cold calling. They come to you. Well, that’s something.
But 30k…for starters. If you sell like the crazy motherfucker you are, that could be 35 or 38k in your first year. Count in that your nosy family would love to keep you around for another year, that eliminates rent, utilities, food, etc. I can ride that pony to Kingdom Come and have more money than God when I get there. This also allows me some wiggle room with that car I need. Maybe I can even establish some credit with a local, reputable auto dealership.
What’s more is that Fiance’ just got a job in town. I can drive across town to see her rather than three hours across the state. I like this. Better yet, putting us in one place means that we can plan in earnest for a wedding and plan financially for afterward. And I can even afford that stupid fucking rock that females are trained from BIRTH to desire*.
Cons: This ain’t what you’re trained for. Sure, this is an excellent and reputable company that’s completely capable of training you. But this isn’t in your blood, man. You dread how hollow this job may feel. Lots of money…for what? For whom, rather? Yeah, you get your piece of the pie while attempting to increase the size of the pie itself. But are you helping folks? Sure you are, helping them find the just the right product at just the right price!
Are you going to fucking sell out and do the easy thing? Make some good money and make everybody else happy? Because it really makes sense. Insurance, security, stability. Everyone wants and needs these things. Look at your sister, man. 29 with no kids and she and her husband are raking it in! Two new cars in one year, man! Think about that.
Or do you have the juevos, the chutzpah, the out-and-out guts to do something novel: something that has the potential to make you truly happy? Not something that makes everyone else happy, but YOU. Just you. Earn your way to the top with your own two hands, one good eye and ear and your wits. Jesus, think about it. Write your way to the top? Hell, you can do that.
What are you gonna do?
*This had to come down here…(1. Because he doesn’t love you if he doesn’t buy you one, and 2. Because that means she’s got that cock locked down! Your ass is free to blimp up above and beyond Starr Jones, and if he strays then TAKE that sonofabitch for every fucking dime he can muster and several that he hasn’t mustered.)