Tom Petty sang a song called, "The Waiting". In today's instant gratification society, waiting has become unacceptable. Everyone wants it now. No one wants to pay the price to get it. And many are jealous of the ones who have attained success.
From the age of 10, I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I loved computers and technology. My dad owned a business, and when I was 15, I began working for him. I installed the company’s first-ever computer. Eventually, I built networks, taught myself desktop publishing, and learned the printing business so I could produce all of the company’s marketing materials. I also learned what it was like to run a business. During the summers when I wasn’t in school, I’d travel with my dad on sales calls. I was giving presentations to hundreds of people at 15 years old—dressed in a coat and tie, playing the part of a business professional. All this before I graduated high school.
Growing up, all I ever heard about was “work.” My dad used to say, “Accomplish something every day.” It was instilled in me early on that the value of a man lies in the work he does. While I know some might disagree, I’ve always believed what I was taught to be true. When you meet someone, you don’t ask how many kids they have or how many volunteer hours they’ve worked—you ask, “What do you do for a living?” That’s what defines us. You see this across nearly all successful people: they eat, sleep, live, and breathe work. The people who envy what they have rarely understand the sacrifices made to achieve that success.
So why have I titled this blog post “The Waiting”? Waiting is passive. Waiting isn’t work. Waiting isn’t something we normally associate with dynamic leadership. We picture leaders as decisive, forceful, and powerful—not sitting idly by while time passes. The reason I called this post “The Waiting” is because it’s an important lesson I’ve had to learn.
When my dad passed away in 1995, I was fresh out of college. I thought my career path was set: I’d work for my dad and eventually take over the family business with my brother once he retired. There’s an old saying: “If you think God doesn’t have a sense of humor, tell Him your plans.” My dad’s passing left me hunting for a job with no enterprise IT experience. Sure, I knew everything I needed to know—but it wasn’t on my résumé. I had to start over, essentially in a help desk role. I worked hard and was quickly promoted. Soon, I was a senior-level engineer. I changed jobs several times, parlaying my experience into bigger roles. Eventually, I became an IT executive, nearing my goal of becoming a CIO. I didn’t have to wait. My career was moving rapidly, and I was still a young man. I was full of pride… and we all know what comes before the fall.
Life has a way of teaching you lessons—lessons more valuable than anything learned in a classroom. Sadly, you can’t put “University of Life” on a résumé. Through a series of events outside my control, I found myself back in an individual contributor role—out of leadership. The years I spent studying leadership, building teams, and running a business were suddenly irrelevant. A useless skill set in my new position. Since 2019, I’ve been in an individual contributor role. As of this post, that’s six years—might as well be a lifetime, as it seems no one looks past your last two jobs.
To say I miss leading teams, strategic planning, business analysis, and ROI calculations would be an understatement. I’ve loved every team I’ve led. I did my best to build meaningful relationships with every person on my team, and over the years, I’ve been blessed to stay in touch with many of them. We still talk regularly—either on the phone or through social media.
As of this writing, it’s been five and a half months since I started my new job—again as an individual contributor. I work with a lot of great people. It’s a smaller company, so it’s easy to get to know everyone, and from the CEO down, the leadership has been exceptional. The job market has been tough over the past few years, so I feel very fortunate to have a role with such a great company.
I still see jobs being posted and occasionally hear from recruiters—I’d been on the job hunt for a couple of years before landing my current role. And this is where the waiting comes in. This is where my desire for instant gratification has to be pushed down deep, and I have to listen, learn, and absorb everything I can about my company, our partners, and the solutions we offer. I want to know as much as those who’ve worked here for 15, 20, or 30 years. But the fact is, I simply can’t learn that much in just over five months.
I have to wait. I have to wait until opportunities present themselves. I have to wait for my moment to shine. I have to keep quiet and listen. And that’s very difficult for me. The waiting really is the hardest part of my job.
