I looked around at the people I knew well and began to put the pieces together.
Most of my friends were building careers at supersonic speed, working outlandish hours and buying all the gadgets they could get their hands on. They were whirling dervishes who never shut down. The salaries, cars, and lavish lifestyles were their scorecards. They were adults playing a real-world game of Monopoly-the wealthiest person had the most stuff. But none of my friends were really rich, because they didn't truly love what they did. Their jobs were a means to an end, rather than an end in and of itself. I'll wager they'll keep at it until they burn out or have coronaries, whichever comes first.
Then I thought about my father, who died at the age of 60, when I was 22. He was a self-made man who grew up in abject poverty in one of the toughest sections of Brooklyn. To his family, he was a hero, a trailblazer, the proud product of peasant East European immigrants who couldn't speak a stitch of English but went on to make something of himself. Not only did he graduate college; he did it on a full-tuition scholarship while holding down a part-time job that helped support his family. Capturing a degree in dentistry was his ticket to success and opened up a new world he couldn't wait to taste.
Despite all that, my father never saw himself as rich. He lived a modest, unassuming lifestyle with one car and a small house, but no boat, plane, chauffeur, or live-in maid. He walked to work and ate at the same diner 5 days a week, a place where he knew everyone from short-order cooks to busboys on a first-name basis.
The mistake my father made was comparing himself with others, who he felt had done much better. Many of his peers drove better cars, lived in bigger homes, and took lavish vacations. As smart as he was, he never realized his arithmetic was bad. He was tallying the wrong things. He was doing exactly what my friends are doing-keeping score in a conventional way. He seldom thought about where he came from, what he had accomplished, and upper most, what he had. At the top of the heap, he loved his work. And that's where he invested most of his energy and time. He couldn't wait to get to work in the morning. It didn't bother him that most of his patients were petrified of spending an hour in his chair. The magic ritual he performed daily was allaying his patients' fears. Looking back, I see a man who had it all together. He made it.
He was rich. The moral of this story is there is no such thing as a bad job-if you love what you do. Get your hands around that one and you'll understand the secret of wealth and power, maybe even the meaning of life itself. In Shark proof super salesman Harvey Mackay says being rich is a state of mind. He's right. What's more, it's relative.
ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO REACH THE WHITE HOUSE?
Blame it on Madison Avenue or dumb TV shows like Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. The problem is we apply the same success standards to everyone. Naively, we assume everyone shares the same drives and ambitions. Would you like to be President of the United States, run a Fortune 500 company, or become a powerful attorney? You say no to all three. What about becoming an entrepreneur and launching the next Microsoft, Wendy's, or Home Depot? No, again. Don't despair, it's perfectly okay. Maybe you'd like to do something more modest like repair furniture, design perfume bottles, be a rubber band purveyor, or run a small country inn. None of these turn me on, but plenty of people out there are working in such careers and having the time of their lives.
The key is to do what you love. Don't beat yourself up if your goals are modest and you don't have the drive, energy, or metabolism to climb mountains. The fantasy perpetuated on the tube is that success is set aside for the chosen, the workaholics, fast-trackers, the super-ambitious go getters who've sacrificed their souls for their careers. The ostentatious exhibitionists on TV shows like Lifestyles are the exception, not the rule. They account for a minuscule fraction of the population. And, I daresay, if most people enjoyed that kind of wealth, they'd be far more discreet about it.
Plenty of folks lead quiet, modest lives and aren't working 60-hour weeks. They're driving Fords and Chevys, leaving work at 5 p.m., and eating dinner with their families every night of the week. Maybe they're doing volunteer work every Monday night and bowling with their friends on Wednesdays. Are these regular folks successful? If they love their jobs and lifestyles, you bet they are. What about you?
THE SUCCESS TEST
How do you stack up? Are you successful or are you still waiting for your proverbial horse to cross the finish line? Here's a quick test that will give you the answer. It's painless, and it takes only a minute. Answer these three questions:
- Do you love your work?
- Do you earn enough to maintain a comfortable lifestyle meeting your needs?
- What changes, if any, would you make to improve your life?
I hope you don't think my quickie test too simple. Why must everything be complicated? I strongly believe the greatest insights are right under our noses. All we have to do is open our eyes and look for them.
ARE YOU READY FOR THE MEANING OF LIFE?
When you think about it, making a wad of money is a pretty ridiculous mission in life. Not only is it shallow and empty, it's also meaningless. Once you have wealth, what then? You're faced with the real mission in life: finding something that offers both meaning and fulfillment. It really doesn't matter what it is. Why it is so many disillusioned stockbrokers, attorneys, physicians, and corporate executives chuck high-profile careers to become teachers? The answer is mission and meaning, which are indelibly intertwined.
Maybe I'm a hopeless Puritan at heart, but I advocate there is virtue in good work.
Understanding and believing this simple concept is the first step; living it is the ultimate accomplishment. The best part is that finding this Utopia removes an enormous pressure off your shoulders, making life a lot more fun.
The meaning of life? Again, it's working at something you love until you're unable to work. If you agree with me, why on earth would you even consider retiring?
