A few months ago I asked my 90 year old father if he liked his work. “Yeah, it’s a lot of fun.”
For 65 years, he’s made his living having “fun.”
You know, I’m not sure how much longer I want to be in engineering.
Me, to Wifey, 13 years and two kids ago.
I became a mechanical engineer because of multiple factors, but the underlying one was, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life.
I was good at the things engineers are good at; math, spatial reasoning, handy with tools, liked to build things, and more. This, along with not really having a backup plan to my failed military career, led me into mech. eng.
For the most part I’ve enjoyed myself, because I got to work with power tools and computers, I worked in climate controlled offices, and even got to travel a bit and meet interesting people.
But I was never an example of “if you love your job, you’ll never work a day of your life.”
I’m in the thick of it now, or at least at the back end of the thick of it. My youngest is halfway through public school, my oldest getting near university. I have 12 more years wherein I have to work, in order to ensure they are properly launched in life.
But I don’t think I can hang on to engineering for that length of time, considering I’m already 13 years past my best before date.
That’s why I’m sitting here pounding out another story about my life. I’m a fledgling professional writer, and writing, like any craft, takes time, patience, and practice.
So I write, improving a little bit, every day. To get me to the point where I finally make my exit.
