Career counseling, 3

This will be quick. You all remember that from time to time I have puzzled about whether I'm in the "right" career, and this topic has come back to me more frequently since I was laid off earlier this year.

I've also mentioned (here and here, for example) the job-search consulting service that my previous employer hired to help all of us find jobs.

Anyway, these consultants offered a webinar a couple days ago about career changing. The presenter strongly recommended a website called "My Next Move," which lets you research possible new careers. One of the options on the front page lets you research new careers even if you have no idea what you want to do, by starting with a quiz about what you like to do.

So I tried the quiz. Sure, hell, why not? It compiled a profile of what kinds of tasks I like to do, and then generated a list of 50 careers that more or less matched this profile. Of these 50 careers, it identified 33 as either "Great fit" or "Best fit."

So what were these careers that fit me so well, according to the algorithm behind this website? Fifteen of the 33 that were flagged as either "Great fit" or "Best fit" were described as "<subject matter> teacher, postsecondary."

In other words, half of these "great or best fit" careers were "college professor."

Gosh. What a surprise. Nobody ever suggested anything like that before. I'm stunned.

I guess it is good to know, huh?

   

"Living consistently with your values"

I wonder if this post belongs over on the Patio. Maybe it does, though I'd have to pretty it up a little first. But let me get it at least written now, and think about where to post it later.

When I was out hiking with Debbie last week, at one point she started talking about her daughter and son-in-law and their family (two little boys). And somehow the topic of the Boy Scouts came up. Or maybe we mentioned the Boy Scouts first? (It's hard for me to remember exactly.) Anyway, Debbie said that her daughter and son-in-law had decided explicitly not to let their sons join the Boy Scouts. 

"Gosh, why not?" I asked. 

As an aside, I myself was never in Scouts, and I was kind of bored by it when Son 1 and Son 2 were involved. But they seemed to enjoy it more or less. Besides, there's a difference between not interested and forbidden.

"Homophobia," she replied. 

I had no idea what she was talking about, but made a mental note to check later. And according to this article in Wikipedia, at least today, it looks like the Boy Scouts have lifted any ban on gay Scouts or gay adult leaders. So I'm still not completely sure what she meant. But maybe there's more than this, somewhere else. I didn't spend a lot of time on the research, honestly.

I was silent for a while as we trudged up the hill, and then finally asked, "Is this because they don't want their sons exposed to bad influences, or because they don't want to give money to organizations they disagree with?"

"I'm not sure. Probably both. I think really they just want to live consistently with their values."

At that, I stopped saying anything more. I reminded myself that I never cared that much about Scouting in the first place. I reminded myself further that, even if I thought it worthwhile to point out the weakness in this reasoning, there was nothing to be gained by pointing it out to Debbie because the decision had been taken by someone else and she had no responsibility for it.

But it irritated me. Not that I hold any special brief for the Boy Scouts, but I do hold some kind of brief for logical thought. And this ain't it.

As I see it, there are two possible cases: either the programs, skills, and training offered by the Boy Scouts have no value, or they have some (positive) value. Arithmetically speaking I suppose there is a third case -- viz., that the value of their programs, skills, and training are negative (i.e., that these things are overtly harmful). But practically speaking the "negative" case can be handled under the "no value" case.

In Case 1, where the value offered by Scouting is zero (or negative), the parents would decide against it not on the grounds of "homophobia" but on the grounds that Scouting as a whole was worthless (or harmful). This is not what the parents said.

In Case 2, where the value offered by Scouting is positive, I would expect to hear some discussion of trade-offs: On the one hand our boys could learn how to go camping and build fires, but on the other hand they'll be exposed to this or that opinion that we disagree with. And then there might be room for a further discussion about how heavy each side of the balance really is. 

Are your children really more likely to adopt the values they clearly learn from you, their parents, every single day at home; or the values they might possibly hear from their den leader once a week? 

For that matter, how likely is it that the opinions of the Scouting central leadership are actually reflected in the local groups? 

Briefly, is there a real problem here, or only an apparent one?

And if Debbie's daughter and son-in-law truly believed they were giving up something important or valuable by giving up Scouting, … wouldn't they have talked like this? Wouldn't they have wrestled with the decision? On the other hand, if they thought it worthless, why make such a big deal over it? Why not just say, "Scouting? Naah, why bother? Such a waste"?

Of course I never talked to them directly about it. But I heard in Debbie's explanation no recognition that there might be any complexity to the decision. And this puzzles me.

The thing is, surely it would have been educational (at the very least) for Debbie's grandsons to study camping and fire-building under people who thought differently from their parents. 

For that matter, since it is a simple fact that there are people in the world who disagree with their parents, surely it would have been valuable for these little boys to learn from an early age how to handle differences of opinion. 

Since real life does -- in fact -- require trade-offs, surely it would have been valuable for these same little boys (when they are old enough) to hear their parents explain this one particular trade-off to them. They could pick up the idea and apply it in other cases. They might see that the world is not a perfect place, but you can still make a life in it anyway.

Also, if they were to come to feel affection for a den leader who taught them valuable skills but whose opinions were different from theirs or their parents', they might learn that human beings can be precious and irreplaceable even if you disagree with them about this or that particular topic. That notion used to be one of the guiding principles of Liberalism, once upon a time. 

Of course the whole discussion was second-hand. But it disturbed me all the same. Maybe the daughter and son-in-law actually agree with me and their opinions just got garbled in transmission. That would be a pleasant thing to believe, if only I could.

Or maybe not. The world, after all, is not a perfect place. But you can still make a life in it anyway.

     

Retirement

A few weeks ago, I started talking to a financial advisor who is somehow connected with the job search consultants that the company provided for us. I figured that I should get some advice what to do with my 401K, since I hadn't looked at it for 15 years or so. In fact, for a while I wasn't getting statements because of some screw-up with my address. I could have gone online, but rarely got around to it.

When I did finally get around to it, a couple of months ago, I realized I needed advice even more than I had known I needed it before. There's a lot of money there. It's funny that even though this is an anonymous blog, I don't feel safe typing the number here -- not even a round approximation. Money really is a huge taboo for us, I guess.

But it's enough money that the advisor's first calculation said I could retire now if I want to. I'm only sixty, or almost. I told him to assume I would live till at least ninety, because it is a nice round number. He said I could retire now, unless I were sabotaged by a combination of an unfavorable inflation rate and an exceptionally poor stock market.

Of course he made a few assumptions. One is that I keep living in my one-bedroom apartment. Another is that I stop paying alimony. The Separation Agreement has a provision that drops in my salary (not "income," please notice!) mean drops in alimony, so if I retire then according to the Agreement Wife's alimony fades away to zero. There were other plausible assumptions too.

And then I could retire. Now. Not find another job, ever.

I asked him to recalculate with a couple of the input numbers adjusted to be a bit more accurate. Then I asked, What if I keep paying the alimony (even though I'm not required to)? (Just because I might like to  -- you know -- not be a jerk.) What if I double my rent by moving somewhere else? (So that I might have a guest room some day, or a study?) Well, of course those assumptions make it harder to retire now. 

Harder. Not actually impossible. But maybe I should work for a few more years. 

I don't know what to think. I don't know how to process this. 

How many times in the last few months have I stopped to ask, What if I didn't have to find another job? I can think, at least, of here and here and here and here.

And maybe I don't. Wow.

     

Cum clarem, obscuro

(For the Latin-impaired, the title means, "In clarifying, I obscure.")

It's getting strange having this almost-but-not-quite-romantic platonic relationship with Debbie at the same time that I'm in a regular-but-long-distance relationship with Marie. And it has been stranger because Debbie has been in-state while taking care of her mother for the last half year or more.

There was a time some months ago that she had to get away from her mom for a day; so she left her with a daytime caregiver and we met at a botanical garden that was about halfway between the two of us. (Call it a 90-minute drive for each of us, or maybe a little longer.) I made a point to email Marie about that ahead of time, and afterwards told her all about the plants in the garden. (Marie, like Debbie, loves gardening. I'm less excited by it, but I try not to express that opinion too loudly.)

Then last month Debbie's mother finally died. Debbie came to visit her friends here in Beautiful City, and spent the night at my apartment. I told that story briefly here. What I neglected to add was Debbie's remark as we were getting ready for bed. 

We slept on two separate mattresses; but because they are so cumbersome and clumsy to move, we left them in the same room next to each other. And I spread one large blanket over both of us. (My accommodations are a little spartan.) We changed into night clothes in different rooms, and we never touched each other. Also, as I said before, Debbie was sick several times in the night. But as we were working out all these details, Debbie wondered aloud if we should "pull back" a little. She went on to say that she really valued my counsel, and over the last year had even come to rely on it. But she added that of course that came with a significant emotional component too, and she figured Marie would be pretty unhappy about that part if she knew. I reminded her that I always tell Marie when we are going to visit each other, and I always tell her whatever we do. Still, her remark was another step down the "I love you" road.

As an aside, I realize that if I wanted to cast my own actions in the most ungenerous light, I would point out that telling Marie everything we do is always the safest and most innocuous thing I could possibly tell her about my visits with Debbie, because we never do anything at all risky … well, I suppose unless you count sleeping in the same room on adjacent mattresses under the same big comforter. 

And … gosh, come to think of it, when I reported on that visit after it was over, I neglected to mention that part because I thought that Debbie's gastrointestinal bug and her being sick several times in one night were more important. Certainly if there had been any risk of surreptitious sex, her sickness would have prevented it neatly. And that's why I thought it was important to talk about the illness; the illness, in turn, is why I thought it was excusable to neglect the sleeping arrangements. After all, nothing came of them -- nor would have, to be clear, even had she not gotten sick.

But my point was really going to be that if there is ever anything in my visits with Debbie that might concern or disturb Marie, it's never the deeds. It's always the intangibles: what we say to each other, and how it feels. So if you wanted to convict me of lying by telling the truth (or obscuring the matter by clarifying it, hence the title of this post), you could make a case. You wouldn't do that, would you?

Sorry, I got distracted. Where was I? Oh right. Visits with Debbie.

In time, Debbie and her sister made arrangements for their mother's funeral (planning it for a week ago today). When Debbie first mentioned this, she said nothing about my coming, which was OK with me. I had met her mother a few times, but it's not like I was close to the family. In a later conversation, she apologized for failing to invite me, and said of course I was welcome. I replied that there was no need for her to apologize, and that I just assumed she had decided I fell outside the family circle. She said no, she hadn't decided anything; she was just distracted and scatter-brained about the whole experience. But I repeated that I wasn't really part of the family circle, so I didn't need to come.

The day before the funeral -- in mid-afternoon -- she texted me, asking me to come. She mentioned that some other close friends of hers from Beautiful City were also coming, and they had known her mom even less than I did. Please come. So of course I said yes.

Just how well did I know Debbie's mother? I met her the first time not long after Debbie and I started dating; she told me she thought it was God's providence that Debbie and I had gotten together when we did. This opinion clearly embarrassed Debbie a lot, but I was able to agree with her calmly. I was invited to her house once, just for a visit; then I was invited a second time, for Christmas, to open presents. She made sure I had a stocking. (I mention that Christmas ever-so-briefly here.) I don't remember if I visited again after that, but if I was visiting Debbie while she had a video call with her mom, I would move into view long enough to wave and say "Hi!" She always remembered me and she was always gracious to me, regardless how my relationship with her daughter evolved. So it's not like we were strangers. I was prepared to be excluded because I often assume I'm going to be excluded anyway. It just seems natural to me. But we weren't strangers, and she was always gracious and kind to me. I said so to the other people I met at the funeral, for what it is worth. Maybe I wasn't out of place after all. 

This was sudden enough that I never did get around to telling Marie about it. On the other hand I did have time to tell my mother: it was going to take me several hours to drive to the funeral, and it would be a lot quicker afterwards to drive to my mom's house and spend the night there than to drive all the way back home. Also, a funeral isn't really a visit … is it?

Maybe I better say something. You think?

Then this Monday Debbie came to Beautiful City for another funeral -- this time, an old friend of hers whom I never knew. And she wanted to spend a couple days visiting other friends. She stayed in a hotel this time. And we went hiking outside of town. Twice. Tuesday afternoon and all day Wednesday. 

Wednesday's hike was grueling. Clearly I am nowhere near ready for the West Highland Way. But what matters for the purposes of this blog post is a remark Debbie made while we were hiking. She asked about my job hunting, and I admitted I haven't gotten very far. She asked about this or that possible direction to look, and they were things I really hadn't thought about before. Then she said, "The reason I suggested those particular jobs is that you could do them anywhere. And since they are portable, that means you'd be available for a lot more hiking and backpacking. So I have an ulterior motive." 

Oh. Wow. I guess you do. Wait, is this what you meant a month ago when you said, "Maybe we should pull back"?

As I said at the beginning, it is getting strange.

                 

Reframing

A couple days ago, I posted a long list of sour gripes that I had distilled from a daylong bad mood. One of these was a complaint that Marie wants me to move in with her. I dismissed this by saying that "the relationship comes with too much baggage" and "the extent to which she needs me is just wearing."

But there's another way to frame this. I even hint at it in a later paragraph of that same post, but not clearly enough.

As it is, my remarks make it sound like I'm talking about Marie: because of this-and-that things about her, I don't want to move in with her or make the relationship that much closer than it is now.

But maybe none of this is about her. Maybe this is all about me. 

More and more I feel like I don't have it in me to want that close a relationship any more, with anybody. Relationships like that require deep trust, and I don't have it to give. I suppose once upon a time I had a normal allotment of trust doled out to me; but it feels like I've used it all up.

Of course I could be wrong. I used to think I was long past the chance of feeling giddy romanticism after so many years with Wife, and then I fell in love with D. So maybe the possibility for being foolish is still there. Maybe when I'm 85 I will lose my head over some sweet young Nimuë; since I have no magic arts to teach, she'll doubtless have to get rid of me with something more practical like a restraining order.

Maybe I'm just an idiot. That's at least a parsimonious explanation of the data.