What Was I Working For?

NORRATOR – NORRA + narrator

Stories shaped by experience

What Was I Working For?

9 mins read

For almost two decades, the 25th used to be my favourite day of the month. You know why? Pay day! Getting the salary in the bank was the highlight of the month.

My life used to be defined by a monthly cycle of the monetary kind. Therefore, time = money. The value of the monthly cycle was defined by what the company paid me. The value of what the company paid me was defined by the fulfilment of my job description. Therefore, “my value = my salary”.

If I wanted to make more money, I’d have to work more. The more sales I made, the more commissions I earned.

Getting additional sales meant achieving beyond what is required within my job scope of setting appointments, meeting clients and achieving sales targets. Meaning, keep doing what I was good at, and do more of it to make more money.

Therefore, “more work = more money”.

The mindset of “more work = more money” went well with “time = money”.

It would take me another decade to understand that since time is limited, this would mean that money is also limited.

This is alright if you are in your 20’s and single. But you won’t go beyond meeting only your own needs.

I had not learned yet that time can’t be equal to money because time is so much more precious. You can make money, but you can’t make time.

The “my salary = my value” thinking meant that I did not develop qualitatively. I was only concerned with the quantitative aspect of hitting and exceeding my sales targets to make more money.

I did not procure knowledge outside what was required for my job and I did not develop additional skills to be a better person. I did not do any personal development – heck, I did not even think of personal development because I thought my value was determined by my salary.

I suppose it was quite normal to think that way in that age bracket. But beyond that, it’s sad if a person equates value to just money, because value can be created in so many different ways.

Your child would value you a lot more if you knew what was his or her favourite food, and cheered him or her on for important activities.

Your parents would value you a lot more if you showed them gentleness and respect, and spent time with them.

Your friend would value you a lot more if you could listen patiently, and give useful advice.

The only time you should equate your value to money is when you are investing your money or when you are giving towards charity.

Over time, I got promoted at work. With a promotion, the job description increased to higher level functions and the key result areas for my job scope included qualitative elements, not just quantitative.

At this level, the concept of “more work = more money” didn’t apply anymore. How do I increase quality when I was so used to “more time = more money”?

This was the beginning of another stage.

Transitioning from handling client accounts and building relationships to managing people was not easy. Newly gained authority was not comfortable nor natural for me. But it definitely was a natural part of career progression.

In retrospect, I am glad I was not “so in love with money” and took up the challenge of going into management. Otherwise, I would have stagnated – not just title wise, but also mindset wise.

Work was no longer about achieving individual targets, I had a team target, so I needed to develop and manage a team.

I was dealing with more heads, more working styles, differing thoughts and opinions. Fortunately, the renumeration increased as well. It wasn’t just money, there were more perks like allowances and a designated parking spot – which is a HUGE deal when you work in a large office building and you go in and out often. Gone were the days of parking at no man’s land and making a pilgrimage every time you need to return to the office

Within this decade, I was in my 30’s and climbed from Assistant Manager to Manager. I think I was pretty much on schedule.

There was a balancing act in leading the people below you and answering to the bosses above. This was also the stage where I learned being a manager and a leader were two different things.

Authority is something that can only be built with skills, experience, and patience. It needs some form of maturity as well.

It takes time. Ahhh time… you fit into the equation differently now.

This was also the decade where divorce and cancer entered my life. Divorce was a choice. Cancer did not give me a gentle love tap, it came like a bolt from the blue, sudden and blinding. Its impact burrowed its way into my life, slow and lasting. Right up to the day I was diagnosed, I was still chasing life, not living life.

The 40’s was completely different. I wasn’t chasing after money, title, status or recognition. To me, chasing after more of what you already have didn’t make you better. You have more, but not better. My perspective had shifted – it was about growth.

I became more strategic in my views, naturally so, after being in management and leadership roles over a decade. I had a very different perspective about achievements. I looked at the industry as a whole, rather than the company I was employed with. I started with newspaper, then went to cinema. Spent a long time in radio, and finally did television.

Once I had ‘conquered’ all the major media in the industry, I found myself being more concerned about health, and religion. That long and slow burrow from cancer in the middle of the last decade had finally reached its destination.

It got me thinking that there should be more to life that just money, title, status and recognition. Having money, nice watches, sunglasses, shoes, a car and a house was just bla bla bla at this stage. I had become very accustomed to it, and I wasn’t feeling fulfilled.

This was completely the beginning of a new era. A different kind of pivot. A life of meaning.

Today, I fear dying without faith and living an insignificant life.

Looking back, I find that rather interesting.

The goalposts had moved.

I hadn’t stopped wanting more. What “more” meant changed.

And I think that’s one of the strange things about getting older.

What motivates us changes.

When I was younger, money represented freedom. It meant being able to pay my own way and take care of the people who depended on me.

Then it became stability.

A better title. A better car. A better house. The things that told me, and perhaps everyone else, that I was doing well.

But somewhere along the way, I started asking different questions.

What is the point of earning more if I don’t have the time to enjoy any of it?

What is the point of a bigger title if I am no longer growing?

What is the point of being successful on paper if I don’t feel that what I’m doing matters?

Those weren’t questions I was asking in my twenties.

I was too busy waiting for payday. 😆

And that’s okay.

I don’t look back at that younger version of myself and think she had it wrong.

She was simply at a different stage of life.

Money mattered because money solved real problems.

It still does.

We need money to live. To eat. To keep a roof over our heads. To give our children opportunities. To have choices. To prepare for the things we cannot predict.

Money isn’t the enemy.

Neither are ambition, titles or success.

The question, I think, is what happens when we keep chasing them long after they have stopped answering the question we were actually trying to solve.

Because the things we fear change too.

I found a note I wrote a couple of years ago:

20s — Money.
30s — Stability, title, car, house.
40s — Health, religion.
50s — Death without iman, insignificant life.

It made me smile because, apparently, I had been keeping track of my existential concerns. 😂

Seriously though, the note was significant because I had written it less than a year after my daughter had passed away – the year that didn’t exist for me. And yet, I was worried about being insignificant.

There’s a certain bittersweet irony and humour in it 😅

As we move through life, we have different needs, with that, different values.

When we’re young, perhaps it’s money.

Then security.

Then achievement and recognition.

Later, we become more conscious of time, health, faith, mortality and what our lives actually mean.

I still want money. Of course I do.

I like having money. Money pays bills. Money buys choices. Money makes some problems considerably less interesting.

But somewhere along the way, I realised I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life simply accumulating more.