If I were to guess, I bet one of the benefits of being rich is you don’t white knuckle your way to payday. Money shows up in your account and you’re all like,”sweet, I was hoping to have even more of that.”
Years ago this girl I was sleeping with told me I’d always be poor. I told her that’s okay because I’d always be smarter than her. She was feeling confident about life because her parents had money, but her dad fucked up and one day they didn’t. I don’t know where she’s at these days, but I imagine it was tough adjusting to an uncertain future.
By most people’s estimates, I’m doing pretty well. I was the first person in my family to graduate college, I did it without debt, I have no consumer debt, and I have a job many people on Earth would cut a child’s ear off for (most people are living in apocalyptic slums, so the bar’s pretty low). I still have massive anxiety about my finances, though. Almost no career is certain these days and you don’t see too many copywriters crushing it past 40.
This has me thinking about a late life career switch, which at my age is insane. If I had to do it all over again, I would’ve liked to have gone into the Navy and tried to get into their medical program. Being a combat doctor is about the coolest thing I can think of. No matter where in the world you go or how dystopic the world gets, you’ll be useful. And if the world doesn’t become a smoldering rock covered in ash and fossils, I’d at least be able to afford a Ford Raptor on a Dr.’s salary.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching The Walking Dead, it’s that it’s never too late to become a better, more useful version of yourself. All you have to do is harden the fuck up like Carol.
I’m heartened by this perspective. There was a time when I’d get overcome with existential despair and depression and just hate myself and the choices I made. I still think I’ve fucked up a little more than I’m comfortable with, but I know how to grind and get shit done. There’s no time for moping when you’re making shit happen.