When a top executive is getting pushed out, metaphorically “pursuing other interests”, it’s often with the soft landing of a golden parachute. A rich severance package that means they don’t have to rush out and find a new job and induces them to go quietly into that good night keeping their opinions and secrets to themselves. All with the backstop of a non-disclosure agreement and a non-compete clause.
The other side of this coin are incentives designed to retain key employees. Reasons to remain in a job that maybe we’re very good at but where we have also become appealing to competitors. Golden handcuffs. While this is typically viewed from the corporation’s lens, I sometimes think about my own situation and the handcuffs I have put on myself. I do have some financial dimensions to consider. Share units and stock options that vest down the road; but nothing that would make a dent or significantly penalize me if I left. To some degree I have elevated my lifestyle in step with the security of a steady pay cheque. A bigger mortgage, a newer car, the vacations and getaways, even the bottle of wine we have with dinner.
No, I willingly choose to accept the bargain of staying an employee – albeit a well-compensated one – instead of abandoning my post and chasing a dream full time. I’m content to use my paid vacation well and squeeze in a little fun at the tail end of my business travel. Designers have a paradox they share. There is good, fast and cheap. You can have any two but not all three at once. I see a parallel for adventurers. There is youth (fitness), time (vacation days), and resources (cash). But not often do the three align. When I was younger, I felt I had all the time in the world. No obligations really tied me down, but I couldn’t afford many of the things I wanted to do.
Heading past sixty and towards retirement, my time is returning. I hope to have the means to be a traveler. However, I’m cognizant that my age is imposing some limits, or maybe I’m expecting a little more comfort than I did in the past. I’m thinking of my recent week on the Babine River in Northern BC fishing for steelhead. It was the same river, and the same sub-zero weather but I had the advantages and luxuries of a high-end lodge with top-notch guides. After a day on the river, we had warm cabins to dry out in, hot showers and wonderful meals served up for us. All I had to do was show up. The rest of the logistics were handled expertly. The cost of such a trip would have far exceeded my capacity when I was twenty-one. But then again, at that age, a good sleeping bag and a packet of instant noodles cooked on a little stove would have been just fine.
A good guide is another edge I can now afford. Nothing beats the benefit of the knowledge someone who spends so much time on the river can bring. I’ve been lucky with guides and count some of them as friends. As one guide said to me, “anyone can guide you once, the test is whether you come back and have them guide you again”. For my part I try to be a good sport. I always show up on time. I’m eager to listen and to learn. I try to be respectful of the river, after all this is their office, their backyard. Sometimes it also means speaking up and being clear about what makes a good day for you. The natural default for a guide is to try to get you into lots of fish. That’s the safe bet. Laughs come easily and the tips flow when you are catching fish. Even if that means dragging a nymph through the middle of the river, when you’d be happier fishing a dry fly tight to the bank. Maybe you’ll catch fewer fish but you’re more satisfied.
Guides have seen it all and are ready with jokes and stories once they get to know you. Don’t judge if you hear the same story a year later. The names are likely changed to protect the innocent and discretion is assured lest you worry about becoming the subject of a future anecdote. Their wisdom can be about life off the river as well. I remember a guide, who at fifty something seemed old to me at the time. He pulled the boat to the bank and netted the fish. Before we set out again, he walked up the bank to take a leak. His advice was on the money. “At my age, I try to remember three things. Never miss a chance to piss, don’t waste an erection, and a good drift is better than a good cast.”
Another guide, a retired Air Force Colonel, I’ve fished with on and off for a decade has an expression “there’s can’t and then there’s won’t”. It’s a distinction that has stuck with me. Do you take a pass if the clouds look menacing, or if the temperature drops? Spending some time in Alberta I learned not to trust what I could see out my window. It was pouring cats and dogs as I was getting ready to meet up, and we nearly called it. Once we pulled off the highway and started down the winding road to the ramp, there was no rain. Judging by the dust that coated the wet drift boat when we arrived at the bottom, the rain must have been localized. Ended up having a great day on the Bow.
No excuses. I’ll keep going out until I can’t.
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