Are You a Professional?

If the definition of professional is “one who is paid for doing or creating something,” then what follows is a list of occupations for which I am a “professional.” I’ve ranked them based on income received, with no attempt to adjust for inflationary differences between the 1960s and today.

Consulting Actuary (This is the one that actually put food on the table for 30 years.)

Preacher (Lay)

Camp Counselor (Day Camp and Sleep-away Camp – 3 summers)

Bridge Teacher

Author (Bridge book, short stories and one essay)

Landscaper (Mowed lawns, etc. as a kid)

Financial Planner (Testing out an idea for post-retirement)

Soccer Player (Semi-pro)

Snow-removal Specialist (Shoveled driveways and sidewalks)

Gambler (When I had a memory, I would play blackjack and count cards)

Musician (Fireman’s Band playing Tenor Sax; playing guitar for a church service as part of the annual national assembly; singing bass as a fill-in for the Cincinnati Symphony Chorus for one summer concert)

Night Watchman (Read Don Quixote while making sure tractor trailers didn’t get stolen)

Manpower Factory Worker (A week and a half one summer after camp counselor job ended)

Babysitter (Filling in for my younger sister if the job ran too late or she was already booked)

Domestic Worker (When I desperately needed extra cash as a kid, my mother would pay me to 

clean the oven – obviously before self-cleaning ovens)

Usher (Traded a gig ushering at a concert for seats to see/listen to Anonymous Four)

Food Vendor (While visiting friends, helped make and sell falafels for a fair)

Bridge Caddy (Filled in when someone didn’t show)

Artist (I painted one landscape in oils and it sold in a garage sale – although perhaps it was the frame they wanted?)

Compared to many people, I suspect my list is short. I grew up in a middle class home and did not have to work while I was in high school except to earn some extra spending money. Also, I lucked into my career as a consulting actuary and stayed with it for thirty years. Many people are not as fortunate or lucky. As a result they had to start real jobs earlier than I and change jobs multiple times during their life.

Some of the jobs I worked had the main benefit of convincing me that type of work was not for me – in many cases because they were physically harder than I wanted to work or did not challenge my brain. To clean my mother’s oven took considerable physical effort scrubbing, and I had to put up with the stench of harsh chemicals. I nearly died of boredom during my brief career during college as a part-time night watchman. Similarly, during my short stint with Manpower, I learned how to operate every machine at a factory that produced molding for autos. I ended up doing the job with the most variety because I filled in for everyone when they went on break—and still I was bored, bored, bored. Plus, my back hurt from being on my feet all day.

The financial planning gig was instructive because I realized that although I was very good at it, I did not want to take on the additional stress of worrying about other people’s financial problems for my retirement. I knew I should be able to distance myself from their financial concerns, but I realized I wouldn’t, indeed couldn’t. While I did make (some) money as a gambler, casinos were loud, smoky (back then) and sealed off from any outside views. I realized the time spent at the tables was soulless.

People were sometimes willing to pay me for doing something I would have done for free. All the musical gigs fall into that category as did playing soccer and helping out friends serving falafels or caddying at a bridge tournament. Designing a holistic religious service and providing the homily also fits in that category. If the only part of a minister’s job was the Sunday service, I’d sign right up. The follow your bliss folks suggest that, done right, my main career should fit in this category—and parts of it did; but lots of my work as a consulting actuary fell into the spirit of “they call it work because people have to pay you to do it.”

In my retirement, I am doing better at following my bliss. I enjoy teaching bridge. I get a kick out of finding ways to help people learn to play better and engaging them so thoroughly that at the end of a two-hour class, they wonder where the time went. And I enjoy writing. I enjoy the process of creating a first draft and rewriting to improve the piece. I also enjoy hearing from people who have appreciated my work. 

Unfortunately, I haven’t found a way to turn query letter rejection into a joyful activity, so I still have a ways to go toward complete bliss.

Care to share any experiences from your list of “professional” accomplishments?

~ Jim