Recently, 24-year-old former journalist Kai Nagata posted an essay: "Why I Quit My Job". It was written shortly after leaving his position of Quebec City Bureau Chief for CTV Montreal. Its essential message was one borne of a restless, unfulfilled spirit, who, finding himself at a crossroads, decided to abandon the life he knew in favour of the possibilities available in a future unknown. He is single, and has no children.
A few days later, a rebuttal was posted by Sandra Thomas of The Vancouver Courier: "Why I Didn't Quit My Job". Its focus was several points made in Kai's article, citing arrogance, and a preachy tone. Also, she writes, she did not quit her job because: "...I’m not 24, I have bills, responsibilities and a love of this community I can only afford to live in because of my paycheque."
Primarily, we should embrace this exchange, if for no other reason, than to celebrate the internet as a forum for this intelligent and healthy debate which otherwise may not have taken place. Although I may not agree with all of what Kai wrote, I can't help but believe that, as a result of his post, at least one person will find some inspiration to make a change in their lives before they think it's too late.
The question for each of us is: when is it too late?
"Why I Quit My Job" has its share of opponents. A portion of them, at least, convey the idea that Kai's youth, inexperience, and lack of personal responsibilities to others make it easy for him to post a three-thousand word dissertation, pack his belongings into a truck, and drive into the setting sun. The proponents of the same piece cite a young man, wise beyond his years, taking advantage of youth and experiencing an inspirational awakening.
I spend most of my time as a television director and producer. I am married with two young children, and live in a house which is nearly a thirty minute drive outside Montreal. Twenty years ago, I wanted to be an actor, ten years later, I wanted to be a doctor, ten year after that, I work in television. So it goes. I used to regret the efforts I didn't make: school, work, saving money, etc. Only recently did I learn what I consider to be two important lessons: not to regret what has passed, and work toward whatever will make you happy. Of course the older I get, the larger the imprint of my life includes responsibilities to those around me - employers, children, spouse - and the more I understand that "what makes me happy" must fit into a certain framework.
I will not, at age 39, begin studying toward the credits I would require to begin a decade-long journey in medical school. I will also not quit my job to wait tables and pursue the dream of an Oscar. That time has passed, and had I pursued more closely those goals when my lifestyle was more permissive, I would certainly not be married to this woman with whom I share these children. I couldn't imagine a life without them. Many people feel frustrated at missed opportunities and personal, financial, and chronological investments which did not pan out: divorces, death, lost investments and others. All one can do is ask: am I putting in every possible effort to be as happy as possible. Time spent on regretting the impossible is time wasted.
Granted, a single parent will probably never have the luxury of quitting an unsatisfactory job, throwing their belongings and children in the trunk, and heading for the west coast. And a 24-year-old will definitely look back twenty years from now, wonder where the time went, and second-guess certain choices. But I hope that, as Kai has, my children find their inspiration at a young age, and have the courage to act upon it. I know I draw inspiration from them, both to feel happiness in my reality as it stands, and knowing I have strength to continue to better all those challenging moments ahead.
Comments