I have always been scared of disappointing people. And that has restricted my career options. In short, I have spent nearly my whole working life as an employee, when I long to be my own boss. Maybe this describes you too.
The catalyst for this story is that a good friend of mine has for some reason taken a sojourn from Germany to Southern Europe. Usually I would press him for further details on this sort of thing, but the mystery is more enticing.
All I know is the following:
- He is staying with some people who live vaguely off the grid.
- He was asked to build a shed to pay for his accommodation.
- Upon arrival yesterday, he was asked to instead build a treehouse.
- From the photos he has sent me, the grounds look like an expansive coastal pine Utopia.
- Although he has some carpentry experience, he has never before built a shed or treehouse.
It may sound strange, but this is one of the most exciting things ever to happen to me. I know it’s not literally happening to me, but I am attached by a vicarious umbilical.
Why am I so excited? Good question. Let’s start from the start.
The Start
As a youngster I was never much interested in doing anything my parents wanted me to do. My role in the family was tantamount to slavery. My interests were unimportant compared to the things that ‘needed’ doing around the house. You might know them as chores, but they were the only thing my parents valued. I could never do enough so I soon gave up trying.
Then there was my brother. He is eighteen months older than me and was clearly furious at having a rival for our parents’ affections. He did everything in his power to keep me hated. I do not blame him. I trusted him and so did my parents. This is not his fault.
I looked to my brother for guidance but he abused my faith and turned the world against me. One day when I was five years old, right before a school photo, he suggested that I run my head under a tap to make my hair look better. Suffice to say it was bad advice. I am now bald.
What I’m trying to say is that I had no compelling reason to live. I was offered pocket money for chores but I did not want money. I only wanted to be loved and appreciated. In fairness I was encouraged by my mother if I showed any signs of creativity. But daily life was such a slog that I had little reason to care about creating.
I was also socially stunted. My memory is unclear as to why, but I certainly remember my brother actively turning the children of family friends against me when I tried so hard to be accepted.
When I got to working age the damage was too far gone. I went to college (the thing before university, for American readers) because everyone else did. This was much to the chagrin of my parents who resented paying my keep. But I coasted because I was sad. Then I moved out and joined the working hordes. What choice did I have?
For years I ambled around soul-destroying sales jobs.
Then one day, as I built a solid wood flat-pack wardrobe, I had an epiphany. I could be a carpenter!
My girlfriend at the time said, “I wouldn’t mind if you were a carpenter.” We broke up a year later.
I looked for cabinetmaking evening classes. Then I thought “fuck it” I’m going to study full-time.
I told my parents my intention. They were very supportive. One day I went home and did some light woodwork, at which my dad said, “it’ll take more than planing a few bits of wood to become a carpenter.” That upset me but I was determined.
The Point
To wrap up part one, I am deeply proud of my friend for taking on what I see as a monumental task.
In part two I will further explain why I feel this way and update you with progress.