Failure

I’m a failure.

At least, that’s what LinkedIn could lead me to believe if I let it.

See, I haven’t excitedly announced that I’ve started a new job or received a promotion. Nor have I launched a successful side hustle. Hell, I’ve never even made a “Top [Blank]” or “[Blank] of Influence” list of any sort.

I know that I don’t look that interesting on paper. I don’t have recruiters climbing over each other to knock on my door and get my attention. Pretty sure I can count the number of unsolicited recruiter contacts that I’ve gotten in the last decade on one hand. And still be able to comfortably hold a pen.

I see the updates posted about friends and colleagues, and I’m happy for them. Sometimes there’s a tinge of jealousy, but that’s normal. It’s part of what makes us human. Everyone has their own path, and I’m glad to see they’re continuing on theirs.

But here’s the thing. I still get up and do my job every day. And I’m pretty good at it, too.

I’ve never really cared that much about what my job title was, and I’m not looking for that next rung on the so-called corporate ladder. Most of what I do happens behind the scenes, and the attention and recognition goes elsewhere. I’m okay with that. I made peace with myself about being “the man behind the curtain” a long time ago. Now does that mean I want to keep doing the same thing for the rest of my career? Of course not. But that’s a topic for another day.

I take care of myself and my family, and all in all have a very good life. If that makes me a failure, then so be it.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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