A Simpler Memphisis

For the past couple weeks, I’ve been mulling over John Calipari’s exit from the University of Memphis to the University of Kentucky.
I don’t follow college sports, checking in with NCAA basketball only long enough to fill out a few brackets each year. So, I don’t have a history with the guy and don’t have any vested interest in his career moves. Yet, I find some pretty vivid emotions churning in me regarding this deal.
For those of you who likewise don’t follow boys hoops, Calipari built a nationally-recognized program in Memphis that almost won the national championship last year. In a town with a struggling NBA franchise and no real other sports success, Calipari was king of his small pond. Then Kentucky made him an offer he couldn’t refuse: $35 million plus perks to bring his strategy and recruiting prowess to their university (considered one of the historic NCAA basketball powerhouses).
He left.
Few could blame him. It’s the American dream: to upgrade, to look for bigger ponds in which to swim. Kentucky will bring Calipari added expectations and stress; but all that is balanced with the potential of a greater legacy, the chance to be considered one of the great basketball coaches of all time— weekly $84,134.62 paychecks.
I wouldn’t have left.
You might think that’s easy for me to say. I don’t have that kind of largesse on the other end of a carrot stick. But I can relate. See, I own a niche advertising agency. It’s a one-man show (this semester with a university intern). While I work on an annual basis for 10-15 clients, they represent an industry filled with literally thousands more. The potential for growth looms significant, especially when I survey convention floors.
Successful businesspeople have advised me to hire some help, maybe even a sales person—and make money off both their and my labor. “You don’t own a business. You own a job,” one of my mentors repeats. Maybe that’s true. Maybe I’m leaving a lot of money on the table. Maybe there’s great reward on the other end of the growth risk. Despite the media cliché, I know several content millionaires, many happy members of the upper class. One of them—one of my previous, benevolent bosses told me once [something like], “I don’t come to work for me anymore; I could retire today. I come to work for you and the other 20-some people who depend on what I do for their livelihoods.”
I don’t ever want to be in that place. I don’t want to wrestle to sustain an operation, rob Peter to make payroll, or manage personalities. I suck at leadership, outside of cheerleading. I would rather do what I like to do than supervise other people doing what I like to do. I hate worry, and I handle stress like a one of those frazzled Amazing Race fiancees. I’ve just embraced a new billing system that will cost me my annual American Express-paid vacations but will drop my monthly accounts payable by 50-70%.
I’m embracing my Memphis and trying to make it as simple as possible. In Memphis, biplane‘s expectations and shortcomings are personal—mine. I don’t have to impress anyone or compete out of survival necessity. I don’t have to find people to carry my name; it’s hard enough for me to live up to it.
In Memphis, I still earn twice what my college-years goals posted on my dreams. My morning commute spans less than 30 seconds. I’m not stealing when I’m on Facebook during work hours. I get tax deductions for driving a sports car. I can bring my wife’s dogs in from the rain in seconds and fold laundry during phone consultations. I can respond to spiritually-weighted emails on company time and listen to any music or podcast while I design. I can take naps with my heirloom down pillow at lunch time.
Sure, I’m more chained to my office than I would have to be as a “business owner.” Sure, my sleep schedule, evenings, and vacations are determined by my clients’ priorities as much (or more) than my own. Sure, I don’t get the Friday golf games or any paid sick days. Like so many others on neo-socialism’s hit list, when I stop working, I stop earning.
But I’ve observed too many people in their Kentucky to want to move there any time soon.
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