The present is the past is the future

During the spring of 1997, almost exactly 19 years ago, I had a tough decision to make about my future. College was fast approaching in the fall and I had narrowed my options down to two: Hamline and Minnesota. Two very different universities that would in all likelihood allow for very different college experiences. Hamline offered the chance to continue to play baseball and soccer, two of my favorite things in the world, at a smaller, intimate campus. Minnesota was where two of my best friends were headed, along with several others from Wausau, and presented more of a "there's no telling what might happen" possibility for the next four(ish) years. What I basically had to decide was this: How badly do I want to keep playing sports competitively and have this make up a large chunk of my college experience?

I went back and forth a few times, but ultimately I chose Minnesota. I decided to close the door on having sports occupy so much of my time and energy. My college years were supreme, memorable and life changing. No part of me believes I should have chosen differently. But there are still moments, even today, where I can't help but wonder. What if. What if I had gone to Hamline and continued to play baseball well? I played in three Wisconsin state tournaments, when I was 12, 16 and 18. I had mashed the ball as well as anyone on the field. I was a 2nd team all-state selection my senior year of high school and there was little reason to think I couldn't play well in college. 

The hope for most that take up sports at a young age is that you can play long enough to reach your ceiling. Be it middle school, high school, college or beyond, there typically becomes a point when you can say to yourself, "Ok, this is as far as I go." Be it desire, injuries or overall talent, the time comes for everyone. A tiny percentage ascend to the professional ranks in their particular sport and break all the rules. But the road ends for almost everyone else.

This wasn't necessarily the case with me. The summer before college I played some of my best ball and was a key cog in our American Legion squad getting 3rd place at the state tournament in August. When we lost that final game, that was it for me. Five of my teammates were going to play in college. But I had made the decision that meant my "career" was over. As I left the field and approached my parents, it all hit my at once. All the innings, all the fields, all the games. I started sobbing the exact moment I reached them. Good bye, baseball.

Nineteen years later, the memories are still fresh. They swoop down less frequently now, but they still land on me from time to time. Certain plays, good and bad, are still there and always will be. I remain confident that I took the right path. But where did the other one lead?

Well now, as a 37-year old, married father of two, I am about to head down the unkown road. Not the baseball path. That one was walled off long ago. But another path has emerged over the last ten years. It has been paved with heavy gravel at some times and sticks and stones during others. But right now, there is smooth cement for as far as I can see. I have no idea where it leads, what dead ends I will find and unexpected turn offs that will loom. But this time, there won't be any wondering. 

That "what if?" question will be answered.

And maybe, just maybe, if things break right, if I find my rhythm, I can put all of the pieces of this puzzle together. And I will finally find out if being a professional poker player is my calling.

The End is the Beginning

At 4:00 in the afternoon of March 7th, I was called into my boss's office and informed that my presence at the company would no longer be required. Even if you are working at a job you don't love, it's still a giant blow to the ego to receive this kind of news. You are basically being told, "we are going to keep going as is, but you are not bringing enough to the table to warrant being kept around." Regardless of your age or occupation, this is a damaging message to hear. You have been deemed sub-par, unsatisfactory, not worthy of holding a position at this company. They are confident they can find someone better than you and keeping you would not be a wise investment. Good bye, thanks for everything, we made a mistake and we are fixing it now. We will not be a part of your life anymore.

This was the second time in just over a year that I had received news such as this. The messages were quite different, but the reality was the same...A boss or manager looking me in the eye and telling me that my time there was done. I left my second job with far less bitterness than I left the first, but another finality of employment termination cut me deep. The overwhelming personal sentiment of "I got screwed!" from last February had now been replaced by a new one:

"Maybe I just suck?"

I was fortunate enough to receive a referral for a contact at a new company for an open position. It was a business development role with an emphasis on relationship management and customer service, right in line with a favorite position from my past. I had an initial phone interview, followed by seven different interviews over the course of four days during the next three weeks. The people, the culture, the vibe all seemed perfect aligned with the person I am and what I wanted my professional experience to be. The constantly chased work hard/play hard motto seemed to legitimately exist there, and when I left the final interview, I felt confident, optimistic and excited that I had done everything possible to ensure I would be working there in the very near future.

Three days later, I received a generic, automated email from their recruiting department:

Our placement process is designed to carefully assess each applicant's skills, abilities, and interests relative to the career opportunity. After a thorough review of your background and skills,  we will continue our search and pursue other candidates.

This was a company that worked directly with consultants to make workplaces more effective through open and honest communication. And they didn't even have the decency or courtesy to make a phone call to share the news with me. Seven interviews. And a "thank you, but no" automated email in response. I kept waiting for the joke, the punchline, is candid camera still a thing?

But no, this was real. We really appreciate you taking the time to drive to our office four different times and spend eight hours in our building. Now, please go away and leave us alone.

It was a final straw of sorts. Fuck these interviews. Fuck managers. Fuck progress reports and mid year reviews. Fuck early morning and late afternoon meetings. Fuck metrics. Fuck hitting your numbers. Fuck office politics. Fuck staying late to catch up. Fuck a lack of accountability and communication. Fuck. It. All.

But now what?