The Good American Road Trip: An Introduction
A fake conversation
Me Today (MT): Alright, sit down. Okay, fine, you can stand. Okay. So… I just quit my job for something way more important and all around better.
Me in College (MC): Aw, yeah! Where are you doing? I assume you got yourself a promotion too.
MT: Nope! I straight up quit. There’s no other job.
MC: What? Well, you must have a plan.
MT: Of course. I’m going to take a month-long road trip across America and then take time to relax.
MC: Visiting colleges or something? Grad school!?
MT: Just going to a bunch of National Parks. Maybe take some photos, ya know? Also there’s a global pandemic raging, and the country is completely on fire (mostly figuratively but there are also many literal fires).
MC: Why?
MT: Oh, young me… You have no idea what it’s like, and just how privileged we’ve been in our short life. Companies are almost unilaterally unforgiving, two-faced corporations that would dump you in a heartbeat. There is no such thing as a work “family.” American culture glorifies the overworked and overstressed! You are worth more than this!
MC: Goddamn, slow your roll… Tell me more.
Let me try to explain
Yeah, alright. So. I quit my job. It was a relatively high-paying gig in the aimlessly futile world of consulting, and I was quite good at it. I was your classic archetype of a Devoted Employee. If it was 5:00pm, and my boss needed something done by the morning, I was the guy. Heck, that was the case even at 10:00pm.
Extra hours? No problem — happy to help.
More work? Sign me up. I want the extra responsibility.
Pick up someone else’s slack? Thank you for believing in me, oh wise wizard.
Don’t get me wrong. I understand that maybe this is an ideal lifestyle for some folks. I majored in economics (the dismal science — accept no substitutions), so yes, I’m sure some people’s preferences lean toward putting in the hours, going full steam ahead, and earning happiness through their work product(s). And honestly, good for them. I’m not going to fault anyone for working towards their own satisfaction.
But I’d had enough. I was consistently working late into the night and on weekends. There was nothing exciting about the work, and at 26, I wasn’t keen on committing to that career for stability’s sake. I was constantly tired and slept poorly. I lost time to devote to hobbies and interests. My relationships were straining, and I just felt like I’d lost “it” — my sense of confidence in my ability to think and commit myself to solving problems. To state a cliche, I lost track of who I was.
Long story short, I consulted a few of my close friends and colleagues, as well as my fiancé and parents, and I decided to just do the thing. Ultimately, I asked myself this:
How likely is it that I will regret this decision?
Very unlikely. For my mental wellbeing, I knew this was the right choice, no doubt. Financially, I was lucky enough to have saved up money to get through a tough time, and if absolutely needed, I could ask for assistance from my parents. My fiancé was also in consulting, and together, we’d done well for ourselves. We are undeniably privileged and fortunate, and I am forever grateful that we were in a position to be able to do what we did.
For the next month, we embarked on a road trip across the U.S. to explore the country we call home and spend some time together, just the two of us (with guest appearances from a couple friends).
(We understood that this was a big risk, given the pandemic. We tried to be safe by socially distancing ourselves as much as possible. We vigorously used hand sanitizer and disinfectants and wore face masks in public places — indoor and outdoor. We cooked our own food to minimize interactions. Obviously we drove a car. It was not ideal, but we believe our impact was reasonably minimized.)
I am under no impression that anyone wants to read my thoughts, but looking back, there are a lot of lessons I learned from both my work experience and this road trip. I wanted to share them, even for an audience of one.
Here goes the thing.