Jobs, Sean Penn, and shoes.

My family and I like to joke that God hates us.

That doesn’t sound all that funny now that I type it. Maybe you have to be there to fully appreciate our brand of humor. But we sometimes think back over our hardships–sunken autos, fireballed appendages, flooded apartment buildings–and think that the only possible explanation for all the trials and tribulations is that we somehow made it onto God’s shit list.

A comprehensive list of everything that pisses God off

The joke is said at any misfortune. The waiter spilled your coffee on you? God hates you. Severe colitis? God hates you. Your boss tried to staple your lips to your tie? God hates you.

Interesting fact: all but one of the above examples actually happened

But I have health, home, family, and a sweet video game set-up, and I know how fortunate I truly am. It’s a great feeling when I can stop and become aware of that fact. To me, those realizations always feel like Spring.

I told you that story in order to tell you this one:

I’ve been in and out of employment for a long time (because God hates me), but I recently jumped at the opportunity to become Executive Director with a non-profit organization. It is, first and foremost, an enormous relief to actually have gainful employment, as I will no longer need to rely on my lovely and vivacious sugar-momma of a wife to keep me in the lifestyle to which I was accustomed. Which I admit never took much.

More important, however, is the fact that I finally am doing a job I can be proud of. Previously, my work efforts tended to benefit only faceless corporations, and it was difficult for me to find any sort of satisfaction in those tasks. I worked in an unsatisfying corporate environment for unsatisfied corporate clients, and I could never seem to click with it. It left a bad taste in my mouth.

I certainly don’t mean to imply that the people who do that kind of work are sleazy…

although let's be honest: If it looks like Sean Penn and quacks like Sean Penn...

Rather, when I worked there I always felt uncomfortable in my own skin. I was irritated and stressed, as if I was continually walking in a pair of shoes that was just one size too small. I could do it. I could cram my toes in and hobble through the day. But it never felt right to me.

This is definitely better.

My lovely and vivacious wife tells me that she doesn’t care what I do, as long as I enjoy doing it. At least now I think I’m pointing in the right direction. I know it’ll be hard work with low compensation, and chances of success are speculative, but at least this time my shoes seem to fit.