Are you a Complainer, Consumer or Contributor in the workplace? In Adam Grant’s book, Give and Take, he differentiates between three types of people–Givers, Matchers and Takers–categorizations that have implications in both our personal and professional lives.
But as an educator–and student–in the realm of financial advisory development, it struck me that Grant’s triumvirate may have an analogous trio of traits that accurately describes our posture toward learning how to be better professionals. (And people.)
I’m sure you’re not a Complainer, but I’ll bet you know how to spot one, whether that person is a friend, colleague or client. Complainers tend to have an eye for the imperfection in everything, and they almost seem to enjoy pointing it out. They seek to disagree and magnify their discontent. They capitalize on opportunities to provide criticism, but it’s rarely constructive. And they also tend to be vocal about it, creating dissatisfaction for others where it may not have previously existed.
“This was given to me, because that was going to kill me,” entrepreneur Lee Janik told me.
“That” was the job of owning and running a construction company he started in Ohio in the mid-2000s.
“This” was the sacred experience of fly fishing, and ultimately building a multinational craft rod-making company.
“It’s like going to church.” That’s how Janik describes fly fishing, his passion, which nursed him through the Great Recession as his commercial real estate development and construction company hung on for dear life.
The company survived, and ultimately thrived, but his therapeutic hobby grew into something more. At the moment, “this” has evolved into Clutch Fly Rods, the company Janik founded selling high-end fly rods that is fast becoming a disruptor in its space.
Michael Brundage had everything working for him: a great marriage, healthy children and a successful career in commercial real estate. But something—something big, but invisible—was missing, and the result was a depressive streak that led my friend and colleague to pursue therapy.
Then, in the middle of an early session, his therapist discerned the problem, which she immediately shared with Michael: “You hate your job. That’s the problem.”
Initially, Michael protested, somewhat confused. He was good at his job—very good—and it paid well, ensuring a more than comfortable lifestyle for his family. Wasn’t that what a job was supposed to be about? Indeed, several generations of Americans have bought into the notion that our work is primarily—if not solely—a means, not an end in itself.
“As a culture, we’ve collectively bought into the lie that work has to be miserable,” writes career expert Jon Acuff in his newest book, Do Over.
Michael had learned, in his words, “what a long shadow not liking your job can cast over the rest of your life.” So he decided to do something about it.
He read voraciously, including Do Over, in which Acuff offers a method to career management regardless of where you stand on the love/hate job continuum.
Acuff’s counsel applies to four different types of career transitions that everyone faces:
You likely feel as though you don’t have enough time to watch a video that is 17 minutes and 47 seconds, right? But what if watching it allows you to penetrate beneath the scar tissue of busyness and distraction and transform your view of work and the satisfaction you derive from it? Would it be worth it, then?
If you’re willing to watch the video, please feel free to stop reading here, because I’m convinced that, though seemingly out of context, you’ll get the point by the end of the video—the point that there’s a vastly different, far more rewarding way to do what we call “work” than what most of us have been taught and have experienced. It’s the work of an artisan.
But first, a bit on the evolution and etymology of work: What’s the difference between a job and a profession? I ask this question more than you’d think, and the summary response I receive is, “A job is something you have to do while a profession is something you want to do. A job is a necessity—it puts food on the table—while a profession is something that you train for and build over time.”
Fair enough. What, then, is a vocation?
“A lot of career advice begins right back at age six,” writes author Chris Guillebeau in his newest book, Born for This: How to Find the Work You Were Meant to Do. But in case you’re expecting some fluffy self-help propaganda that over-inflates your ego in an attempt to win your purchase of the book, Guillebeau hits you with a helpful dose of reality early and often:
“‘You can do anything you want,’ adults usually promise, without any explanation or assurance of how ‘anything’ is possible. Nice as it might sound to our young ears, this advice is absurd,” says Guillebeau.
Please don’t get the wrong impression. Guillebeau isn’t a bully or a browbeater. I actually find him surprisingly soft-spoken for someone who has built an enormous online following, written four bestselling books and created one of the hottest-ticket annual conferences in the World Domination Summit. He just refuses to buy into the implicit (and often explicit) promise of the many “success cult” leaders who sell books, courses and videos offering you a slice of their success if you’ll only follow their footsteps (across a pile of burning coals).
And why doesn’t following successful people necessarily make you successful? For at least two reasons:
1) You’re not them.
2) They’re not you.
How, then, does Guillebeau fill 300 pages with advice on finding your dream job, if not by telling you how he did it and imploring you to do the same?
Unfortunately, personal finance has been reduced to a short list of “Dos” and a long (long) list of “Don’ts” typically based on someone else’s priorities in life, not yours.
But personal finance is actually more personal than it is finance.
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That’s why what works great for someone else may not work as well for you. Money management is complex because we are complex. Therefore, it is in better understanding ourselves—our history with money and what we value most—that we are able to bring clarity to even the most confounding decisions in money and life. As an advisor, speaker and author, I’ve made a career out of demystifying complex financial concepts into understandable, doable actions. In this practical book, I’ll show you how to
- find contentment by redefining “wealth”
- establish your priorities, articulate your goals, and find your calling
- design a personal budgeting system you can (almost) enjoy
- create a simple, world-class investment portfolio that has beaten the pros
- manage risk—with and without insurance
- ditch the traditional concept of retirement and plan for financial independence
- cheat death and build a legacy
- and more
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The problem with so much personal finance advice is that it’s unnecessarily complicated, often with the goal of selling you things you don’t need. Tim Maurer never plays that game. His straightforward, candid and yes — simple — prescriptions are always right on target. Jean Chatzky
financial editor of NBC's 'Today Show'
Here’s what others are saying about Simple Money:
“Reading this book is like having your own personal financial advisor.”—Kimberly Palmer, senior money editor at US News & World Report; author of The Economy of You
“You can’t manage your money without thinking about your life—and the system that Tim proposes can make a radical difference in both.”—Chris Guillebeau, New York Times bestselling author of The $100 Startup and The Happiness of Pursuit
“Maurer teaches us how to literally redefine wealth in a way that will both honor your life values and priorities while simultaneously reducing your stress.”—Manisha Thakor, CFA, director of wealth strategies for women for the BAM Alliance; writer for The Wall Street Journal
“Amen! Amen! Amen! Simplicity is a gift . . . and this book offers it by the truckload!”—Carl Richards, New York Times columnist; author of The One-Page Financial Plan
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A friend of mine had a lifelong dream of opening up a coffee shop and was willing to put a highly successful career on the line to pursue it. Fortunately, he was presented with an amazing opportunity to test-drive his grass-is-greener ideal, and the results might surprise you and offer guidance that you can apply to your next big decision.
Dave had it all planned out, even down to the lighting and indie musicians that would be playing on Thursday nights in his vision of the perfect coffeehouse.
Then he got an opportunity that most of us don’t have before we make the plunge: He got to learn the ropes working at the best café in Chicago. He immersed himself in coffee culture for a week of training that was nothing short of blissful. Then, he got a chance to put it to work for another few weeks.
His findings? In an average eight-hour day, he got to interact with customers and craft their coffee concoctions for approximately 20 minutes. The remaining seven hours and 40 minutes were spent with dirty dishes. Lots of dirty dishes.
Yesterday, a bearded 21-year-old surfer who lives in a 1978 VW bus, and on a self-imposed annual allowance of $10,000, mowed down my beloved Orioles with a 96-mile-per-hour fastball.
Blue Jays pitcher Daniel Norris isn’t striving to make a statement with his apparently Spartan existence. He’s simply choosing to live life according to his priorities. He’s writing his own story.
According to ESPN, Norris’ values system is strengthened by generational ties and rooted in the topography of Johnson City in northeast Tennessee: “Play outdoors. Love the earth. Live simply. Use only what you need.”
The point of this article is not to compel you to adopt Daniel Norris’ values, but to convince you to live by your own. Here are three ways to do so:
“We’re just overwhelmed with life.” That was my response to an attorney looking for insight into the obstacles facing Generation X.
I’d referred a number of 30- and 40-something financial-planning clients to this attorney. All were in need of estate-planning documents.
But he came to me concerned about the difficulty he was having in reconnecting with clients who’d begun the process but were struggling to find the time to complete it. The time to complete anything, really.
While folks of all generations struggle with being overwhelmed by the various responsibilities and obligations of life, I see the problem as endemic within the ranks of Gen X, my peers.
You’ve got a machine just sitting around your house. It’s a money-printing machine, and it’s perfectly legal. This machine is expected to print $75,000 this year before taxes. You’ll use that cash to pay your household expenses.
Each year, the machine will print 3 percent more than it did in the previous year, and it will continue doing so for the next 40. That means, over its lifetime the machine will print $5,655,094.48, easily making it your most valuable asset today.
Yet there it sits, maybe in your garage, between an inherited set of golf clubs and a wheelbarrow with a flat tire, unprotected. Uninsured.
The machine, of course, is you, or more specifically, your ability to generate an income. It didn’t come cheap. You and your parents invested years of training and likely tens of thousands of dollars in hopes that your machine would not only support you financially for a lifetime but launch another generation as well.
We don’t question the need to buy insurance for the things our money machine purchases. But few of us know if—or at least how and to what degree—their income-generation engine is protected.