Based on a more or less true story!
Characters:
Dad#1 is a writer.
Dad#2 runs a nonprofit law firm that sues prescription drug companies.
Act II, Scene 2:
Scene: Irish bar in Boston.
Dad#1: How’s work going?
Dad#2: Win some, lose some. Lately I’ve been trying to stay enthusiastic. Sometimes I feel like we’re just part of the cost of doing business for these big pharmaceutical companies.
Dad# 1: The cost of doing business matters. It can change behavior.
Dad#2: Don’t you ever feel like you’re just pissing into the wind?
Dad#1: Sure, all the time. When I left my job a year ago, I absolutely felt that way.
Dad#2: Still feel that way?
Dad#1: All the time. But I realized something kind of important, which is that I didn’t have any choice but to do the kind of work I do. I may be pissing in the wind but I have to do what I think is right and hope it works out. I mean, look, we don’t know what effect our actions will have. What seems ineffectual today can turn out to have a huge impact later on – Rosa Parks and King were inspired by people we’ve never heard of, blah, blah, blah.
Dad#2: Like the butterfly that flaps his little wings in China and causes a hurricane off the coast of Louisiana.
Dad#1: Sure, exactly. Except the butterfly doesn’t have any choice but to flap his little wings. That’s just what he does. We on the other hand have to make annoying choices. See, the problem with my old job is that the organization had, you know, strayed from its founding values. I joined a social justice organization but it turned into this business while I was there. At the end I wasn’t doing work that made sense to me, and so I was unhappy. Right after I left I just felt disillusioned, like no good intention goes unpunished. But then I realized I couldn’t live that way, thinking that whatever I started would turn to shit.
Dad#2: You can’t think that way if you’re dad.
Dad#1: That was a big part of it, yeah. Exactly. We don’t know how our kids are going to turn out, but we just have to raise them in a way that seems right to us. It’s like how E.L. Doctorow described the experience of writing a novel: you’re driving a car through the desert at night and you can only see as far as the headlights shine. You have to just keep driving in the right direction and have faith that you’ll get to your destination.
Dad#2: That’s the problem. What if you start to think that you’re not actually going anywhere?
Dad#1: What else are you going to do?
Dad#2: Stop the car. Get a job with one of the pharmaceutical companies you’ve been suing, buy a big house, send your kid to private school, retire in luxury.
Dad#1: I got a glimpse of that life at my old job. After I became a dad, I thought lots, more than I’d like to admit, about whether or not I should focus on making money. It seemed like the right thing to do, provide for my family and so on. That whole manly dad thing. But I was so unhappy. I’d be holding the baby and thinking about arguments at work. I wasn’t focused on the baby; I was always somewhere else.
Dad#2: That can be true at any job.
Dad#1: Sure, lots of nonprofit jobs suck. But some are great. This is about values and what you want out of life. After I quit I realized that I couldn’t organize my life around private accumulation. Why should that be the point of being a man? That’s somebody else’s idea of daddyhood. It’s a trap. For lots of guys, maybe it’s OK. I’m not judging them anymore. I just know that I have to live a certain way or I won’t be happy. And what kind of father will I be if I’m not a happy person?
Dad#2: So it’s destiny.
Dad#1: Maybe that’s one way of putting it, like you have a purpose and the secret to happiness is discovering that purpose, though I have no idea how that purpose would get assigned. It’s probably just accident, like everything else in our lives. Anyway, I just felt like, I had to live my life come what may. Maybe I wouldn’t make as much money, but maybe there are other things I could give my son by living my life the way I do. I’m not sure what. I’m still figuring that out.
Dad#2: But what if you’re no good at fulfilling your destiny? Like, you sue drug companies but you suck at it? Or maybe you just think it’s boring?
Dad#1: First of all, you probably don’t suck at it as much as you think you do. You can’t win every battle and if you lose a couple in a row, you can start to have negative bullshit ideas about yourself. Second, you don’t have to do this particular job forever. You can move on. Third, you know, a lot of work is boring. Especially legal work. If you worked for a big company, would it be any less boring? It’d probably be even more boring.
Dad#2: At least you’d make a lot of cash. (Finishes beer and slams it down on the bar.)
Dad#1: If that’s what you want to do, that’s fine with me. The only problem is, would you be making the world better or worse in that job?
Dad#2: Yeah. I think I know the answer to that one.
Dad#1: I dunno. Drugs help people live longer, right? You could tell yourself lots of stories that would make it easier to go to work.
Dad#2: Ugh.
Dad#1: See? (Laughs.) You can’t do it, can you?
Dad#2: I think I’m drunk. And I have to piss. Do you want another beer?
Dad#1: Sure. Does beer help people live longer?
Dad#2: I dunno but it sure makes me piss.
Dad#1: Just don’t do it into the wind.
4 comments:
"This is about values and what you want out of life."
Bingo.
This is another thoughtful and insightful post. Well done.
I've been fermenting a somewhat related blog essay for a while now. Perhaps I can outline the premise in a comment nutshell, and perhaps someone will find it useful...
Since there's only one outcome that's acceptable to me, worrying about its likelihood isn't very helpful. I would work to create that outcome if it were likely, and I would work to create that outcome even if it were unlikely, because it's the only outcome that matters to me. It's what I want out of life.
Thanks again, y'all.
Hey Jeremy, when do we get to have a beer together??
Chip: San Francisco is very nice in September and October.
I've been reflecting on this post since I posted it. I feel like the dialogue has a position behind it (i.e., the right thing to do is work for the crunchiest nonprofit you can find) that is probably too pat. This is a dialogue between dads who have worked in the nonprofit sector and are facing mid-thirties burnout. But these can be really tough choices for a lot of dads and, to a different degree, moms -- to be sure, mostly privileged dads and moms. I think it really is legitimate and sometimes necessary to make the money choice. The real problem for all people is, Given the circumstances of my life, how do I live the best, most ethical, most political life I can?
For me, the realization that a job is more than just a paycheck, and that it has ethical implications, came long before kids when I was working in DC, first for an environmental outfit which paid a pittance but was doing excellent and important work, then for a lobbying and pr firm, that paid more than I'd ever earned, but where the projects were ethically troubling and even repulsive. I realized that no matter how much money I could make, I could not live with myself if my efforts were contributing to what I saw as causes that were morally and ethically wrong.
Bottom line is that we each have to make those choices and draw those lines on our own (and you are right, the ability to draw those lines and make those choices is a reflection of class privilege). A good friend works for a big multinational bank and is convinced that he is helping the world more than any nonprofit worker... Plus he gets a huge salary to boot.
But then when we have kids I think everything changes because, whereas before, working long hours can be satisfying, suddenly, new priorities arise. And money does matter. But for me, I also had to be doing something I felt good about, if only because the ethics of career are more important than making tons of money, and I had to be able to look my kids in the eyes down the road. So we downsized expectations, etc. Of course where I live housing is very affordable, not sure what I'd do if I lived in SF, Boston, etc. But I guess that was part of my choice. To raise kids who are little hicks rather than urban sophisticates. Oh well...
And Jeremy, I'll see what I can do.
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