Tuesday, November 27, 2007

By definition

Tuesday, November 27, 2007
I had lunch today with two university chums (gag, not named Buffy and Chet, though I will refer to them as that from now on), and on my long elevator ride back up to the office, got to thinking.

Dangerous, that thinking.

Thinking about what, for me, defines success. When will I know that I've made it? That I'm successful? When I have a mortgage? An assistant? A team of assistants? When my office has a door? When I'm married? With a family? Two cars? A small designer breed dog? And a poolboy I mess around with on Tuesdays? What's the bar I'm reaching for, anyway?

And I think, at this particular moment in cubical land, 18 months out of the prestigious Haskayne School of Business at the University of Calgary, after lunching with Buffy and Chet-

I think I'll be successful when I no longer care what people I grew up with or sat beside in lecture think. When I don't define my self by the description that would sound best to them, when I'm not trying to impress or prove something to someone other than myself- when I'm just doing because I want to, or because I couldn't NOT; that's when I'll know I've made it.

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