Listen to this discussion free on YouTube: Run the Traps discussion
The word “trap” itself dates back to Old English “træppe” or “treppe,” meaning snare or device for catching something.
There have been many traps and snares in my path forward. A number of new ones. Running the traps these days, to me, means being aware of the traps and running through them in my planning, and working out my alternative routes.
I’m thriving in a low-wage job. And it is a trap. Complacency is a trap. Feeling like “this is as good as it gets.” Nope. The climb ahead is long. The summit will be wonderful. Another summit, another trap run, will always be ahead.
The dead-end job that doesn’t pay the minimal bills for my existence.
The son who preys on my goodwill and optimistic nature. His run is nearing a trap of his own making.
The hunt for the next job. Picking the right job. But first, the offer must come. And, most important of all, never sit still. The two big jobs may not come through. I must continue to submit my credentials and historical creative work for evaluation by AI and unskilled recruiters. Today, Singapore is my target. I would like to learn more about the country. And build some strategic plans and comparisons for the company.
No time to celebrate my wins. It’s coming. My birthday is exactly one month away, this year, on Thanksgiving. I’m a gift. I was a surprise to my mom and dad, so my mom used to say. I did not save the marriage. I was not enough of a responsibility to get my dad to moderate his drinking. I was not popular with my younger sister, who was pissed at me for becoming the “baby of the family.” My brother was already suffering from his destructive depression. And my favorite sister was perfect. I was her gift. I was her charge.
I am a hippie because of my favorite sister. Today, I can’t get caught in that trap either. I cut my hair as a precursor to interviews from two different companies. I am flexible and willing to go the extra mile.
A few more traps.
My own depression struggles. All good for years, but always looming in the hard moments.
My age and health. All good for a soon to be 63 year old man. Age is just a number. Tennis players age at a different rate than the rest of the population. It’s been proven by science.
An idealistic quest for “the one.” I’m paused in that quest for now. Bringing all available energy to my two major quests at the moment. New job. Publishing contract. One would give me a new lease on life, with a cash flow to release a few more of my creative ventures into the world. One would begin the next peak climb. Building and roughing up my audience for book sales. I’m not sure very many people are reading books these days. Much less, books that are challenging to read. The audience is easily distracted and bored by the dead pages of physical books.
I can’t worry about that. I focus on my craft. I focus on getting another career job. I must make my own calculations. If given the chance, which job would be best for my immediate growth? Which job has the best chance for longevity and ease? I think they are polar opposites. I’m often drawn to the high-flying roles. The downside is their potentially short half-life. It’s good to be aware of the leadership and your direct manager. But pre-work intel is not always accurate.
I am more aware of my presence than I’ve ever been. Can I adapt to a new system of governance? To a new style of management? To women bosses? To Asian bosses? From my current role as a cashier in a fancy grocery store, I have been reschooled on skills like mirroring. There is only up from here. Plenty of traps. I am scouting ahead. Moving easily with intention. This time will be different, I promise myself. This time.
