I am very blessed in my life to have several really good friends and many acquaintances. Some I have known for more than 30 years, while others have only recently come into my circle of “know ’ems.”
I tend to talk a lot about my friends to others. I find the people in my life to be pretty interesting these days, as is the stuff we talk about on a regular basis. There always seems to be something new to share that my friends either said, are doing now or have done in the past.
I after all, make a living as a storyteller and everything I hear seems to get woven into the tales I tell. I am careful not to betray any confidences, of course, and I am still carrying many secrets with me, ones I will carry gladly to my grave.
In sharing a couple stories over the weekend, it became painfully obvious that I am far more interested in the people who touch and share my life than what they do for a living.
The question always seems to come up, “What does she do?” or “What does he do for a living?”
I confess that I know few answers in this regard. I think it took me 20 years to find out what my friend Bobby did for a living and even now I’m still not exactly sure. I do know what my friend Mike does, or did. He’s kind of a jack of all trades kind of guy. I know Cassie works in an office in Ballard somewhere for a fishing company. I’m pretty confident on that one. And my friend Cathy owns an insurance agency. This I do know because it has her name on it.
Of course, I’ve known these people for the better part of three decades. I don’t know what my ex really does anymore, but that’s in large part because she works at Boeing in the black programs – top secret, hush, hush stuff. If she ever told me, she’d probably have to kill me, which at one time, may have been a desirable outcome in some the mind of her family.
But after that, it gets a little fuzzy for me. In my closest circle of “I know ’ems”, I have a couple treasure divers, an at risk counselor, several musicians, a bank manager, an artist or two, and a jewelry maker to the stars.
These are current vocations, though. Work histories, I haven’t a clue. I don’t know what they used to do and I can barely describe what they do now except in the broadest of terms.
I had to think a lot about why this is so. After all, it sounds like I don’t really take an interest in my friends. At least, that’s how it appears to those who think it’s important that I know what they do to make a living.
I guess that’s never really been important to me. As you can see by my own tongue-in-cheek descriptions of what I do (I sit at home, make things up, people send me checks), I don’t really care much about the working world.
That’s because I think who we are is much more important than what we do.
For instance, I know that most of my friends and acquaintances are really smart people. They are quick of mind. I know this because every time I post something on a social media site, I get lots of great zingers and comebacks.
This wouldn’t have happened even a few years ago when I moved in a circle of people who weren’t that quick. I am not casting stones at them. But I didn’t pick them. They were the “married friends,” you know, the people that end up in your life that really aren’t your friends, they may not even be your spouse’s friends, but for some reason they end up in your life just because you’re married. And once you split the sheets, they mercifully go away, choosing either your ex or none of the above.
I also know that the vast majority of my friends and acquaintances have really big hearts and have really positive, can-do attitudes. Again, this hasn’t always been the case. Some of my past encounters have been with extremely negative people who managed to suck me into their vortex of doom and gloom.
I’m sure some of these people have very important jobs. Certainly, one of my acquaintances during “the married years” continually reminded me of her uber-important job fueling space shuttles. I am sure that every time she told me this, she saw the “big whoop” expression on my face. I don’t find this job that important. In fact, I think the guy who cleans the portable toilets at an event I’m at has a far more important job, because it’s far more likely that I will benefit from his dedication to his job than uber-important space girl.
I am also immune to being impressed by the money anyone makes, too. Don’t care if you make six figures. Big deal! As I learned long ago, a bigger salary carries a bigger price to pay. It can be in the form of working nights and weekends, always being called into a last minute meeting, traveling all over the world as your family becomes strangers to you, or the inevitable fall you’ll take when you’re laid off or fired and your expenses far exceed your take home on unemployment.
I know the people around me well enough. I don’t really need to know their work life. I would much rather know what they do in their real life, the one that doesn’t change with the economy, opportunity or a LinkedIn connection. That is the true measure of a person to me – what is in their heart and soul, not their business card.
Out on the Treasure Coast, looking at my business card that says Mister Know-It-All,
– Robb
(And if the title escapes you, you must not have ever watched Bullwinkle. Yes, my job title is from a cartoon)