The Peripatetic.

NEW COMMENT: This is the man from the UK totally shocked but humbled by your gracious words which depsite the lateness of the hour last Thursday are pretty accurate. To fill in the blanks . . . 

The UK man in Colombia was not in either of those countries last week. He was in New York’s Midtown with a bunch of businessmen from a boutique investment firm. He asked what I did, and I told my story of looking for jobs, along with now nearly 5% of the American workforce.

Then comes the part when people offer their philosophies on life and how to make it through a hard time. They usually end with, “You’ll find something!” (And some New Yorkers are a tad bit more pessimistic.)

I don’t remember if this guy said that, and, to be honest, I don’t even remember his name. But I remember his story.

“Luck!” was how he got his job, he said.
“Wasn’t it just taking advantage of the right opportunities?” I asked.
“No.”

He traveled through Russia and Eastern Europe when he graduated. Eventually, he landed back in England working at gym, and then he was managing the place. They were owned by a bank, and one day one of the big guys’ secretary called to register for a class late in the day, when all reservations were supposed to be made in the morning. “Tell him he’s an @**, but yeah sure he can register” the UK Man said.

Those exact words got back to the big guy, who in protest for the name-calling boycotted the gym and blocked about 100 other guys from going, too.

Later one night while closing up shop and walking out with his girlfriend, the UK man walked past a pub where the big guy sat plastered with a bunch of friends.

The banker shouted, “Come have a drink with us!”
“No, I don’t want to.”
“Come! Come!”
“No.”
“I have never had someone talk to me like that. I like your attitude. Where are you headed . . . Where are you going? . . . ”

Conversation ensued. The gym manager was going on vacation soon, but hadn’t bought his tickets so he could get last-minute deals.

“Book your tickets for Portugal. You can use my villa.  My chauffeur will pick you up. Call my secretary in the morning to arrange it.”

The gym manager didn’t believe the drunken man, but nonetheless he called in the morning. The arrangements had already been made, and off he and his girlfriend went to Portugal.

When he got back, he was put to work on the Japanese markets, which were hot at the time. He was the oldest at the desk, and the others treated him like their personal servant. He washed their cars, picked up their dry cleaning, did whatever was asked. Slowly, he made his way up.

Years later, he called it quits and moved with his Colombian wife to Medellin. He planned to retire, write a book, watch his son grow up and then he found himself back in the business.  Setting up meetings in New York wasn’t a big deal for him, but it meant everything to the guys in Colombia. He did that until he was finally and fully employed and running his own show.

The UK man refuses to speak Spanish to his son and constantly exposes him to English media, movies, whatever he can. His son understands it all, but at the end of the day the boy will ask for a piece of chocolate saying, “Papi, quiero chocolate!” Again and again until he realizes his father isn’t budging, and only then will begrudgingly ask in an impeccable British accent, “I would like some chocolate, please.”

The UK man was happy at each new stage in life, by the way he told it. He was fine working in the gym, and didn’t have many ambitions after that. He was fine as a banker, and when he was fed up with that he was happy to go retire in one of Colombia’s most beautiful cities. When worked picked up again, he was fine with that, too.  Contentment overall, and pure excitement when talking about his son — that’s when he looked the happiest.

I think contentment is harder to come by when you’re leaving the ivy-league school setting, where ambition is as ravenous as materialism elsewhere. It’s especially hard coming from China, where Mandarin skills and the right degree of willingness shoot people years ahead on their career track. So now that the world is offering a slew of unappealing entry-level opportunities for long hours of grunt-work, it’s hard to detach from those delusions of grandeur, even if it’s only for the time being. Contentment. That’s the new goal, in or out of China.

First, it’s time to come to grips with the fact that I am, after all is said and done, out. Completely.