Thirty Years to Life

I was on the way to work thinking that I had about thirty year of 9-to-5-ing left if I continued on my current path. Nothing wrong with the track per-se, but I am at what I feel is the zenith. In plain English, I have the perfect 9-to-5. The job is perfect, the job title, the company, the location, and the commute. Everything is perfect, for a 9-to-5. However, it occurred to me as it has in the last couple of weeks than I was ready for more. Ready to be on the other side of the desk. I’ll get to that another day perhaps.

When I got to my connecting station a guy about my age in a suit and tie suddenly struck up a conversation with, you mean thirty more years of this @#$#?

I said, “huh?” just to make sure he hadn’t been reading my mind, or I his.

Thirty more years for shuffling to drudgery, he continued.

“I hear ya,” I told him. He then asked me what I thought about his comment. I told him humorously (a la Beatles) that maybe that (working for the next thirty years) was what happens while you’re making other plans.

He then asked me where I worked, and vice-versa. I had heard of his company and told him I knew a few people who worked there years back.

He replied, “if they don’t work there anymore, I can understand why.” As we parted for different trains he seemed to cheer up. So did I.

If we both, God willing, have thirty years to life, we can spend it making plans. Plans to live with more meaning. Plans to experience more passion. Plans to love and be loved. Plans to help. Plans to heal. Plans to forgive. Plans to repent. Plans to be better people, so that regardless of how those years turn out, we know we had a life of our choosing.