6 Reasons Why a Nomad Traveler will Make the Worst Employee Ever
I should know. I am one.
It can be tough, coming back from an extensive period of traveling and trying to get a full-time job.
A nomad traveler might be cultured. Open-minded. Enthusiastic and experienced in ‘life’. But here’s the thing…
1. They will never be on time
Time had no meaning on their meaningful journey. A nomad traveler has been well-taught that the sun, moon, planets, and the whims of dodgy visa agents control all things.
They know full well that in the end, we will all simply sputter into stardust. Therefore, they see nothing wrong with a three-hour lunch break if it’s sunny.
Your nomad traveler knows that if you’re sitting at a desk, you can’t lie on your back and dip your toes into the sky. And that’s more important than a conference call, isn’t it?
2. They can’t commit
A nomad traveler may well have the best of intentions in the interview. They might fully mean it when they say they want to work for you.
But in the back of their mind, they are still toying with the idea of heading into the Congo for a month with that bloke they met on the Inca Trail.
Or building a wagon for Burning Man. One that shoots glitter and fire!
Or taking that placement on the orangutans-with-Alzheimer’s sanctuary in Borneo.
The truth is, like everything else in their life, your coveted job is just a whim; a fleeting thought that brings them joy, but will very soon come to pass.
3. You will always be second best
No matter how great your job is, or how suitable you think your nomad traveler is for it, making someone else a profit will never be their life’s focus.
Sure, they’ll play along for a while.
They might even believe — for a second — that belonging to your “work family” is the new “fuck it all off to join the hemp weaving, stalk fiber recycling program in the Amish Community” they once stumbled across on a foraging trip through a Pennsylvanian forest.
But they will never really view their impressive global contacts as anything more than a virtual Rolodex of sofas they could sleep on, should they visit someplace new.
A nomad traveler will do anything for the like-minded people they meet on their spiritual path.
Don’t be surprised if your nomad traveler can’t come in today because Galapagos Gillian/Buenos Aires Juan-Pablo-Bob is in town with an iguana flu/empanada craving.
They were there for you when you almost died of dengue.
4. They’ll eat weird things at their desk
Should they dine al desko, an ex nomad traveler will see nothing at all strange about chomping on a chopped tomato and a sardine — topped with that weird green powdered superfood they picked up from a Drug Baron turned Wellness-Entrepreneur on a Colombian market stall.
In the office kitchen, they’ll wax lyrical about a local libation they once enjoyed in Libya and won’t even blink if you roll your eyes.
They’re happy sprinkling bee pollen on their organic granola, investigating obscure items deep-fried into plastic packets, and proving their skills with a pair of chopsticks.
No kind of food will phase them, and neither will your disapproving stares.
Because when you live in hostels, and dine on cross-country buses for an extensive period, you feast on the bountiful knowledge acquired from fellow nomads.
You dine how you damn well want.
You know the best taste of all is the taste of freedom.
They’ll ruin the present moment with their past
A nomad traveler might be sitting in the same meeting as you, but chances are they’re only half there.
While you await an opinion on a client’s request, or ponder which new pens to order for the whiteboard, they will somehow conjure up a memory of a day spent humming sacred mantras, lost on the tiger trail in Nepal.
Or they’ll bring up the week they starved themselves willingly deep in the Amazon, back when they communicated only in a new form of hieroglyphics.
Back when they couldn’t go to bed without a river cruise moon dance and an iddy-biddy nightcap of ayahuasca.
You know - things that were actually interesting?
They’ll smile when you’re serious
Rainclouds over your morning commute. Omnicron death counts. The rising interest rates on a suburban duplex. Or the latest eviction from Celebrity Masterchef. It barely registers.
Your nomad traveler shivered in a hammock for a month on a windswept peninsula in Patagonia. They battled with mosquitoes the size of wooly mammoths.
They evicted themselves from an ashram after the space invaders got too touchy-feely, and the indisputable, profound truth is that it was all just one big blessing.
They’re stronger for it.
A nomad traveler will rain on the parade of a colleague’s trivial water cooler talk, and probably not even know they’re doing it. Asshole, or a lucky rare diamond living in precious oblivion?
Both could get annoying.
If you hire an ex nomad traveler, be kind. Be gentle. Help them with their transition. And who knows — you could be the next big adventure they’ve been looking for.
Maybe…
Hi sparkling rainbow-soul — I’m late to the Medium party. But I’m here now. Follow me if you like my stuff. Thanks!
