I learned today that Columbia is interviewing for two dream job positions. They want people to travel the world doing bucket-list activities for nine months, while testing various Columbia apparel and gear in inclement weather and inhospitable environments.
I’m really struggling right now—struggling not to daydream, not to pull the rip cord on my accomplished career and apply for the job. I’m in the early years of the timeline where a midlife crisis would be acceptable. I’m not kidding—ask my wife: for the last week and a half, I’ve been investigating how to spend my fortieth birthday next year in Antarctica.
If you can’t understand why, you probably won’t relate to the tension inside me.
I just got back from a trip of helicopter-assisted mountain climbing in British Columbia. We summited one peak in cold, blowing rain; and I said to one of my teammates, “I don’t know if there’s something broken in me, but I love this!”
Some of my favorite days directing traffic at my church are when the weather makes my smiles and high fives seem out of place. (I wear my beloved Columbia boots on many of those days.) When my sleeping bag fell in the ocean on the infamous West Coast Trail of Vancouver Island, I used my backpack—yes, my backpack—and layers of Under Armour and rain gear as my sleeping bag.
Those adventures make the stories better, the memories more epic.
The Columbia job requires social media skills, and I literally teach social media marketing around the country (and design social media campaigns almost every day for my current job). I’ve been blogging for ten years and maintaining a high Klout score since that was a thing. I’ve been using GoPro cameras since before they recorded video, and I travel with rare after-market mounts for adventure shoots (including one I designed and built myself).
In short, I’m perfect for the job.
So, where’s the tension, then? Isn’t our culture constantly telling us to chase our dreams, to pursue only the things that make us come alive?
Nine Months
First of all, the job is not a career position. It’s not even a full year. It’s long enough that I would have to shut down my freelance business—probably permanently. Nine months is long enough for my clients to get into a rhythm with a new vendor—clients I’ve had for more than a decade. This Columbia gig would need to create enough exposure to parlay into a new career. I’ve done startup life once. I’d rather not have to do that again in my forties.
Relational Distance
I spent three days with a travel writer recently, and he told me of the strain his profession has on his relationship with his fiancée. I think my marriage of 16 years could survive this short season, but the relational struggle would come in my extended absence from spiritual community. I am growing up as an adult and growing in my relationship with Jesus, because of what I’m learning as both a participant and leader in small faith communities inside my church. The vacuum created by that absence could invite regression and apathy in me and might help someone else build distance between themselves and their spiritual accountability.
The Tradeoff
Wilderness guides, special ed teachers, and missionaries know that the roles they love limit their earning potential. Columbia’s hoping to attract those it’s-worth-it kind of people. Even if you prorate Columbia’s $39,000 promise to a full year, the lifestyle change for us would be drastic. If I worked ahead and saved up, I could probably prepay a bunch of bills so that we could have a place to live during those nine months; but I’d be coming home to drained savings and no job. So, we’d probably have to liquidate the house that I designed and helped build. We pay almost all of our household bills from my paycheck so my wife can dedicate herself to ministry. This adventure could then negatively impact her life’s calling.
Too Much of a Good Thing
I enjoy my lifestyle now. I love where we live. This experience could create discontent with my Central Virginia ecosystem when the Columbia job ends. Conversely, it could also sour me on the kinds of adventures I very much enjoy now in small, remedial doses.
There is the tension in a nut shell. This is as big or bigger of a wrestle as when someone promised me a seven-figure income several years ago for a startup job in the San Francisco area. I can keep a job I don’t mind with benefits I love, or I can chase a job I would love that comes with a surgeon general’s warning’s worth of negative consequences.
Or I can apply, when Columbia’s registration opens—and see just how tense this tug of war could become. I probably won’t get accepted, anyway. (That’s what I tell myself.)
So, stay tuned. Neither you nor I know where this could go.
