Someone named David Wiser keeps emailing me. And every email sounds the same: “D.F., I wanted to let you know about an opportunity for a senior vice president of something-or-other position with Super Big Corporation in Seattle (or Nashville, or San Antonio, or Atlanta…).”
Mr. Wiser always wants to let me know about this, just in case I might know someone who would be interested. Like who? Like me, of course. Recruiters don’t really expect you to pass it on to “someone you know who would be interested.” They just say that so you don’t get a big head.
They want you. Or, in the case of the headhunting Mr. Wiser, he wants me. I probably get an email every week from him about some job opportunity somewhere. Now what do you suppose makes him think I’m qualified for all these jobs? Let’s review my credentials:
• I’m a CEO. Although I surely wouldn’t be if I didn’t own the company. You read my columns. Would you put me in charge of your business? I didn’t think so.
• I have experience managing people. How well I manage them may be another story entirely, but I do have experience.
• I’ve worked with companies in a lot of different industries. I’m not a specialist. That means I can talk about a lot of different business subjects as if I know what I’m saying. That’s the job of a senior vice president—to sound like you know what you’re talking about.
Well, this is all very flattering. And I know there are people who grew tired of working for themselves and took a top-dollar position working for someone else. But I’ll never be one of those people. There’s no amount of money that would make me willing to follow anyone else’s rules, assuming I could even understand them.
So one time I actually replied to Mr. Wiser and explained that, while I didn’t mind receiving the emails (they’re kind of entertaining), there was zero chance I’d ever respond favorably to any of them—and it just seemed like the honorable thing to do to let him know that, lest he interpret the lack of an unsubscribe request as actual interest.
I heard back, with an offer of a fabulous position in Portland!
Now, if my business ever goes under—and don’t overestimate me—I already have a plan. I’ll give all my suits to Goodwill and do my imitation of a Berkeley radical for the rest of my life. I won’t actually become one, mind you (those people are crazy), but I can see myself decked out in shorts, grey socks and Birkenstocks, pedaling my bike across campus with my laptop in my backpack, then stopping off wherever I can find a place to plug in and doing some sort of independent contractor work that doesn’t require me to ever set foot in an office or attend a meeting.
So that’s my fallback. If you want a job, let me know and I’ll give David Wiser your email address. To my way of thinking, there has to be a better way to generate money.
Indeed, this leads me to wonder if we’re approaching an age when it really won’t be necessary for anyone to have a job. After all, consider the stuff that usually comes with a job:
An office. You don’t really need these anymore. What’s in an office? A desk? A computer? Paper? A phone? A copier? Most of this is stuff you can either rig up for yourself, makeshift-style, wherever you want, or it’s completely unnecessary. I feel somewhat ashamed saying this, because Xerox helped put me through college, but who needs a copier anymore? Who needs paper? (Except on which to print NorthBay Biz, of course.)
A salary. You don’t need a salary. You need money. There are lots of ways to get that without having to get a salary involved. No, numbskull, legal ways. Mind you, this is easier for me to say having spent nearly a decade in business for myself, because I’ve learned how to market services to customers. But to be honest, it’s really not that hard, and it doesn’t require a genius. The same generation that figured out you can’t make money just from having a website will also figure out new ways you can make money.
I’d say they should teach entrepreneurialism in school, but I’d sort of hate to think how the schools would teach it. Better yet, put a bunch of 12-year-olds in a room for two hours and tell them they have to figure out a way to get some money without having a job and without stealing it. I bet they’d come up with something.
A boss. Now, of course you’ll readily agree how useless one of these is. But not for the reasons you think. As much as people complain, they want their bosses. They want there to be someone who has to issue them a paycheck even if there isn’t enough money for him to get one. They want there to be someone who will take responsibility for whatever decision gets made—even if it was a bad decision, and even if he let you make it, because that provides a buffer between you and ultimate responsibility.
And if the company finds itself mired hopelessly in debt and unable to continue operating, you get fired, but that’s all you get. The boss has to figure out a way to pay back all the debt and still pay his mortgage and grocery bill. So bosses are handy to have around. But you really don’t need one.
If any of my employees read this column, they’ll probably quit, which would be kind of sad, but then I could just go bust out the Birkenstocks and get on my bike. As for David Wiser, if he reads this, he’s going to realize he’s wasting his time sending me all those emails. This is truly a tragedy, but at least he knows he’s getting my attention.
That’s all he’s getting, though. The opportunities sound wonderfully fabulous! It’s just too bad they come with a job.
