Six Lessons From a Year Without a Job

I almost didn’t write this post. It’s been such a strange and bizarre year that I didn’t at first consider it representative of the typical “early retirement” experience. Upon further reflection, however, I realized that life—just like those “irregular” regular one-off expenses—is typically atypical. It’s still life, just without a job.

With so much information about self-care, wellness, early retirement, and a life-by-design, I’ve had a lot of time to sift through the noise. And shockingly, perhaps I don’t recommend retiring early.

Here are some lessons from one year without a job…

The Beginning

It’s early February of 2020. I feel the normal force of my body pressing through my poorly maintained and unpolished “dress” shoes as the elevator comes to rest on the lobby floor of a downtown Denver high rise. The screen chirps inside the elevator, noting the obvious: I’ve arrived on the first floor. For the last time. I just signed my severance papers, and I’m (sort of) quitting my job.

I walk slowly through the bright and busy lobby, taking it all in once more. The rich, deep smell of roasting coffee and the hissing of frothing milk from the small, Scandinavian-themed café. The yin and yang complementary swirls of mafic and felsic minerals in the granite slabs beneath my feet glinting in the incandescent light. As I approach the tall revolving door separating the lobby from the frigid February morning, I pause to read the sign taped on the window:

Join us on Friday, February 14 in the lobby for Valentine’s treats.

Cookies, snacks, and small desserts will be served

Noon- 2pm

Happy Valentine’s Day!

– Management

Damnit, I thought. They always give away free food when I’m not here.

I push through the door, and step onto the bitter cold downtown street of Denver. I suddenly smile as I remember that my car is in the parking garage, on a different floor. Embarrassingly, I turn right back around, push back through the door, and walk through the lobby again, forced to re-read the final page of the chapter I’ve just finished.

What defines a career or a job?

That moment was one of the most redeeming of my life. Up to this point I’d been grinding through a decade of working a job that was 80% unfulfilling. It paid wonderfully, which made it hard to leave. What also made it hard to leave was that I struggled to ever come up with a better replacement. I researched other industries, and at one point came very close to returning to school for a PhD. I’d mulled over the climbing dirtbag I’ll-figure-it-out-as-I-go existence, but neither I, nor especially my wife, was willing to commit. Once we discovered a path to financial independence—this post specifically—we decided to go full-steam ahead.

In hindsight, I wouldn’t change a thing. So far.

Lesson #1: Work is Work

I’ve heard of these elusive snow leopard dream jobs, but I’ve never had one.

From age 15-35, I worked for somewhere in the range of 15 employers, with 10 primary jobs and five or so short-term gigs. These employers included many restaurants, a single gas station, universities, an environmental consulting firm, and several independent oil and gas companies of various sizes. Employee numbers ranged from four to 2000+, in locations across the country. Indoor smoking policies varied considerably through space and time.

I worked for salaries ranging from $5.50/hr wrestling slippery Golden Retriever-sized cubes of lard into fryers in a mega-busy mall Chick-fil-A kitchen, to well over a six-figure income with bonuses and other perks to be bored 75% of the time in my own private, well-lit skyscraper office. I even had a stand-up desk.

One constant was that work always felt like work. Each new job I ever accepted came with an expectation: this will be the one.

While the pay in Corporate America was certainly worthy, the most fulfilling period of my working life was making somewhere in the range of $8-$9/hr tossing pizzas in college, circa 2004-2007. While I’m certainly looking back at those days with rose-colored glasses—I’m definitely happier overall now—that was such a fun working environment. The camaraderie of a hot-and-heavy kitchen, cranking music I like over the stereo, rocking bandanas and thrift shop t-shirts, and drinking shift beers out on the patio in sultry mid-summer North Carolina nights with fascinating people fit many of the core elements of work satisfaction. I miss those days.

Perhaps I just miss certain aspects of being 21, but I will continue to focus on maintaining purpose and that sense of team work as time goes on.

We can’t all have a dream job

The point of this section is simple: we can’t all have a dream job. Now more than ever I hear from folks wanting to quit jobs that aren’t satisfactory. I get it, and I was there too.

But even the dreamiest of dream jobs come with elements of dissatisfaction. And as more of us feel we can create our own destiny, are we setting up a bubble of unsustainable entrepreneurial ventures?

After spending my entire adult life mulling this over, here’s my conclusion: save enough money OR career capital to create the work/level of autonomy that you desire. Don’t expect it to be easy. Don’t expect it to always be fulfilling. Just make sure it is compatible with what you are passionate about.

Anyone telling you work doesn’t have to be work is probably selling something. Here is my summarizing quote from an interview I did with The Frugal Professor.

The key is not to avoid burnout, but to get burned out on things that matter. To do that, however, you probably need to spend some time getting burned out on things you don’t care about, assigned by bosses that piss you off. These are important skills to develop. Very few of us will ever walk into a dream job. Take your time, hone your craft, and build it. Meanwhile, save enough money so you don’t have to worry about it.

For more, I recommend this post: The Fallacy of Happiness and Meaningful Work.

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Lesson #2: Stress is not reduced when changing too much at once.

Ahh, stress. Many early retirees have noted an initial reduction in overall stress after leaving their job. I think I’ve finally found that fountain of youth in the last few months, but it took a while to get there.

We tried to change too much, too soon. Folks even warned me against it, but I couldn’t hear it.

In the last year we left our careers and professional identities, enjoyed three weeks of our new life before being forced into lockdown, sold our home to become technically homeless, traveled for five months in a 90-square foot A-frame camper, moved to a new state and city, and bought another home.

Let’s be clear: even stepping away from a career is a huge life change, requiring lots of thought and planning. While I don’t regret any of our experiences from the last year, I have to admit that it was a bit much at times.

My recommendation: For anyone that pulls the trigger on stepping away from traditional work, take the time to enjoy the transition. Then do all the things.

Lesson #3. Explaining what I do for a job is weird and uncomfortable.

Speaking of professional identity, man, it sure is a pain in the ass hemming and hawing about what I do for a living.

When I first left my job, my old Denver neighbors were none the wiser. We hadn’t talked shop with them in years, so they had no reason to suspect that I was no longer gainfully employed. When the pandemic started and layoffs began, folks asked if we were okay, and that was an easy bullet to dodge.

Oh, we’re just fine Sarah. How are the kids?

In our new neighborhood—dominated by traditional retirees with yard pride—we’ve had some explaining to do. Everyone is very curious about the 30-something couple from “The Big City” who clearly are never at work.

When asked, I’ve explained that I do some minor amounts of remote web design and writing, which is not a lie. For most folks over age 60, this is sufficient information to have them smile, raise their hands in an awkward motion, and say, well I don’t know anything about that.

For the more persistent bunch, I’ve also told them that I worked in the corporate world and saved some money to allow more lifestyle flexibility, which also rings true.

I don’t like to use the word “retired.” It conjures up all the wrong images for all the wrong reasons. It implies that I too want nothing but a perfect yard. Retirees relax, others work. I like working.

Bottom Line: I have nothing. Explaining a lack of employment in your mid-30s is weird. Moving on.

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Lesson #4: Confirmation bias follows us everywhere

When we make choices in life, we immediately (and subconsciously) make a subtler secondary choice: find any and all information that justifies the first choice.

It’s incredibly difficult to admit that we are wrong. That’s why politicians defend clearly flawed policies with unwavering conviction, and why we as individuals will find any (even remote) source of internet information to back our claims, perhaps without even reading beyond the headline. The presence of overwhelming contradictory evidence is dismissed or picked apart for even the tiniest shred of flawed logic as an excuse to invalidate an uncomfortable truth.

Far more often, we simply lie to ourselves.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve told myself that I’m good with life, only to look back five years later and think, wow, that kind of sucked.

All of this is normal. This is the human card we’ve been dealt. I now try and carry a conscious guard and continually poke around in my brain for signs of confirmation bias. In fact, I look back at some of the early posts on this website with horror: I sound like a finger-pointing judgmental a-hole who has everything figured out.

I don’t. In fact, I’ve entered into a new level of understanding over this year: the more I learn, the more I feel I know nothing. That leads me to my next lesson. But first, let’s summarize:

Bottom Line: We all tell lots of little lies, and it usually begins by lying to ourselves. Honesty is still indeed the best policy, so I wonder what I’ll think of this in five years. I know I’m still in the decompression phase after years of full-time work. Will I have the courage to be honest with myself when and if the narrative changes?

Lesson #5: A mirror helps

If there’s one particular change I’ve noticed over the last year, it’s that time away from a traditional job—and especially time in a small camper—forces a lot of self-reflection.

I’ve always wanted to be known for something. I’ve gone through phases of what I thought I would be known for with relentless drive and passion: skateboarding, video production, music, academic research. Once I unwillingly landed in Corporate America, that dream sort of fizzled. Oil and gas, industry geology, or business topics certainly didn’t interest me enough to be known for that. I just didn’t picture myself in a wool sport coat giving lectures to industry insiders in stuffy downtown hotel conference rooms.

I turned my ambition to climbing, going absolutely bonkers for this sport. But I knew I wouldn’t be known for that, either. I mean, can’t all of the Boulder Valley School District climb 5.12 by now?

I tend to be a very driven person, with one foot on the obsession peddle at all times. As such, you would think being without a traditional job would be hard. So far, I find the opposite to be true. When I was at work, I was often stuck working on tasks that were at least partially defined by larger corporate metrics, with only moderate levels of autonomy. A lot of the time, I was simply bored and frustrated.

Rationalizing motivation

Starting this project is one of the most challenging and rewarding experiences of my creative or professional life. The challenge is obvious: money is taboo. I suspect (but am not certain) that some of my relationships with friends and family have suffered because of my more forward writings on this website. I’ve been repeatedly turned down for interviews with well wishes like, “what you are doing is great, but it’s not a good fit for me.” Or I’ve heard no response at all. Money is a deeply emotional trigger for so many of us.

Ask someone how they train or what they eat, and someone will talk for hours. Ask someone how they hope to fund their life, and the moment can get very uncomfortable. It takes a special kind of person to show up here on this website, even anonymously (so many thanks to those who have over at The Interview Series).

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A shift towards optimism

See I’m rambling again. Basically, I take this all very seriously. I try to write in a way that challenges folks through a bit of an intentionally manufactured persona, but I often wonder if that’s really just my more judgmental side. In the past, I’ve battled with being cynical of people in general. I’ve often looked for flaws, not redeeming qualities. And when you look for flaws, buddy, you will always find them.

I feel that the tide is shifting dramatically. Perhaps the timing with the pandemic, the recession, and everything else about the last year has brought out my more dormant optimism in the face of so much pessimism, anger, and hopelessness. My emotions are kind of like Newton’s Third Law of Motion: for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. How else can you explain how I became such a Tar Heel fan after leaving North Carolina?

I’m feeling the best I have in years, and I’ve felt more introspective and open to looking in the mirror, so to speak.

Bottom Line: Like everyone else, I need purpose. I want to be known for something. With time away from work, I’ve enjoyed hours of self-reflection to understand my own motivations. So far, I’m feeling better than I have in years. I want this feeling to last.

…Sometimes the more of something you have, the more you feel you have to lose.

Lesson #6: Financial security is relative.

My wife and I feel very different on our levels of financial security. And to be clear, we are secure. For those who are hip to my jive, we have a sub-3% safe withdrawal rate with plenty of what we consider “luxurious” spending, i.e., Harmon’s cheese. I’m not trying to sound all braggy-pants, but instead set a scene for you of perception.

So, taking emotions out of the equation, by really anyone’s definition, we should never have to make another dime for the rest of our lives. Sounds neat, right?!

Well, the problem is that sometimes the more of something you have, the more you feel you have to lose. My wife is the prime sufferer of this condition*, but I’d be remiss to say the occasional dark cloud doesn’t loom over my head as well.

When I was a penniless 24-year-old grad student watching the professors run around like chickens with their heads cut off during the 2008 financial crisis, I really didn’t see what the kerfuffle was all about. Who gives a damn about the stock market? What do underwater mortgages have to do with the Geology Department? Will you just read my latest thesis chapter!  

When I graduated amongst the smoldering ashes, I’d soon find out why recessions matter.

Security comes and goes with or without a job

When the sky started falling back in February and March of 2020, I 100% got a fat lump in my throat.

F. I just quit my job right before a major recession. F. No Bueno.

Who would have predicted we’d be back at all-time highs by August?! Yeah, no one.

But this is the life you live once you become an investor. Everyone and their mother will tell you not to pay attention, but we all still pay attention. We know when the market is up or down by more than a percentage point. It’s easy to fall victim to compulsive checking of our net worth**.

The benefits are obvious: financial security. And that’s huge. But security is in the eye of the beholder.

Do what you can to be ice-veined, rational, and objective when it comes to money. I still find it helps to check our net worth every other month or so. Seeing the numbers on money in and money out helps Mrs. CC in particular battle the nagging feeling to go out and get a job. She’s busy also working on things that don’t pay, but she constantly feels she should secure some income. And eventually, I think we will. After all, we want to recession-proof our life.

Bottom Line: Financial security is relative. For some, something that is built can feel like something to be broken. Find ways to be objective, rational, and quantitative in the face of uncertainty.

*For the record, Mrs. CC suggested that I write this section.

**This is a big reason why I warn against fancy apps that make checking net worth as easy as checking the weather. It’s a slippery cognitive slope.

Summary

So, is it still worth it all? Yes. Yes, it is.

I still know I’m somewhere in transition. My suspicion is that I will continue to live this way for another year at least, but who knows. Mrs. CC talks about part-time or seasonal work all the time, so I certainly won’t stand in the way of that so long as she can still continue to focus on her important creative side work. The flexibility and balance between work and play is phenomenal, so going back to anything that constitutes a real job seems unimaginable to me right now.

But if something about this life goes south, will I have the courage to admit it?

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