Time To Man Up?

Jobs and I are like oil and water. I have been fired or have dramatically quit just about every job I have ever had. Still, I’ve managed to eke out a pretty good existence.

There have been some tough times but I was never destitute just uncomfortable. I never had to skip meals or have my utilities cut off. I have, however, had to sell some stuff to get by — most recently, a house. I have done well enough at times to invest in real estate and buy motorcycles and stuff. I have had enough money in the bank that I’ve taken a five-month vacation to Mexico. Currently, I have been living off my savings for over a year, but with a baby on the way, I am going to need an income.

“Resourceful,” that’s how someone recently described me when I told them how I needed to figure out how to make some money. “You’ll figure something out. You’re resourceful.” Is it that easy? I have been trying to “figure it out” since someone stole my business from me in the summer of 2017. A business I built from scratch with zero capital. A business I managed to operate for seven years. A business where my employees had health insurance even though I wasn’t obligated to provide coverage. A business that paid me a meager salary, but it was something, and it was steady.

As soon as I found out I was going out of business, I began to wonder what am I going to do for money. It’s been a year and a half, and I am still wondering.

Granted, closing my doors left me with quite a bit of operating capital. This left me with enough money to live comfortably for a couple of years. Still, I panicked and started diligently looking for work. I worked for a few days as a temp maintenance worker for an apartment complex in Boulder. They paid me $17.00 an hour to walk around and pick up cigarette butts. I loved how many steps I was getting in but hated how they were treating me. My boss had never once looked at my resume. He had no idea what I was capable of — that I had over twenty years in Heating and Air and building maintenance.

When I got an ass chewing for showing up on time and getting straight to work, but not letting anyone know I was there, I knew I wouldn’t last long. I was so glad to get a call from the temp agency telling me that he asked that I not come back. I went back to fishing and the job hunt the very next day. A couple of months later, I got a call back from an ad I responded to weeks prior. I had actually stopped looking for a job at this time and was headed south to visit a friend in Texas when I got the call. The position was to manage the engineering team for a hotel and casino. This guy had read my resume. When they agreed to the salary I asked for, I had no choice but to take it.

Since I still lived in my van at the time, my cost of living was nothing. I couldn’t spend the money fast enough. In just a short time, my savings accumulated to the point where I was going to pay off one of my mortgages. But then I quit.

I liked the job. I like the people I worked with. I liked my crew. I liked fixing things. I liked the responsibility I had. I hated being micromanaged. The money was great, but I didn’t need it. What I needed was not to hate going to work. What I needed was time to write. So when it came to it, when the actual event that I promised my crew “I would lay down my job before I let them do that,” came. I put in my resignation, they accepted, and I went fishing.

That brings us to right now. Living in a rented house in Missouri, monthly utility bills, baby on the way, and no job. What do I do?

When You Know Who and I reunited, it started with phone calls. I’d be laying down in the back of my van behind a rock climbing gym in Boulder and she’d in her home in Missouri. We did a lot of catching up then. One of the things we talked about was my crazy life — living in a van, fishing every day, writing books and articles, and NOT WORKING. She inquired about how I was able to do it. I mentioned that more than anything else I had very little expenses and no debt. Somewhere in this conversation, she said something to the effect that, well if you needed to you’d get a job doing HVAC, right? This broke my heart a little.

We both knew what was happening here. We had been apart for thirteen years, and yet madly in love with each other. This wasn’t a hey, how’s my old friend reunion this was a let’s get married and start a family reunion. I knew it, and by the way she seemed concerned about my income, I could tell she knew it too.

She was right. I could easily get a job doing HVAC. I am good at it, very good. And it doesn’t take much for an employer to want me on their team after seeing my resume. The problem is, I don’t want to do HVAC — ever again. I’m sure You Know Who remembers this. When I left her fifteen years ago to go to Iraq, I told her then that that was the last HVAC job I would ever take. It wasn’t, but that’s how long I have wanted to no longer be a tradesman. But on the phone that day, I agreed. “Oh, totally.” I didn’t know that she would be pregnant within a month.

Now, Baby Davey’s arrival is just a few months away, and I have a job offer. A government job that is going to pay pretty well. One that will be the civilian equivalent to what I did in the Air Force. One that will provide for my family and me and allow You Know Who to stay at home with Davey. One that everyone will be proud that I got. One that I don’t want to take with every fiber of my being.

Now the question comes, do I Man Up? With all this talk of gender equality and toxic masculinity, which I am on board with, is this mentality also not toxic? Am I not a man if I don’t sacrifice my happiness and go to work where the job offer alone gives me a sunken feeling in my chest? Maybe we should call it “Leader Up.”

As a leader of one — the most important follower in the world — my son, I am going lead by example. And it has nothing to do with my masculinity. I am going to make an unpopular decision. I am going to do what I think is better for my family in the long run. I am going to go against what his mother wants. I am going to do what is going to make me a better person, a better husband, and most of all, a better father. I am going to choose my own happiness over money. Many years from now when he reads this, he will know that one of the reasons he had such a wonderful, happy, and emotionally available father will be because of the decision I made to turn this job down.

Now, gender roles aside, I want to provide for my family. I want this responsibility. I want to be able to afford everything my son and his mother needs and I am going to make that happen. How? I’m not sure. But I am resourceful, remember?

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Previously published on medium

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