Nativist Bias Leads To Not Good Enough

Pivoting from wannabe Python developer trying to save the world from AI homogenization to TESOL instructor for non-native English speaking adult learners.

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Separating the Wheat from the Chaff: A Tech Veteran's Perspective

 I started my career in high tech with a simple set of requirements: put food on the table, clothes on my back, a roof over my head, and a few dollars in the bank for a rainy day. After 17 jobs lasting 6 months to 6 years—spanning the rise of the PC, the collapse of industrial giants like Sun and GE, and the current "hoopla" of Generative AI—I've  met  those requirements.

But leaving high tech isn't just about walking away; it’s about sharing key insights from the perspective of 45 years as a tech writer and information architect. In a world currently obsessed with the "How" (the fastest chip, the smarter API, the next big exit), we are losing sight of the  "Why" (solving a  real-world requirement). We are trading Precision for Hype, and Stewardship for a Mercenary Mindset.

So, the following posts are my attempt to separate the 'wheat" from the "chaff". The intent is to leave a frame of reference for the next generation of engineers and tech writers who are currently being blinded by the "hoopla." Whether you are a veteran looking for an exit or a 25-year-old just starting the journey, these insights may be  the only "rainy day fund" that never devalues.

Key Insights:

• Part 1: The Industrial Ghost in the Consumer Machine– Why hardware is just a pane of glass and that your "old" M1 Mac Mini might be just as industrial as the "latest" M5 MacBook.
• Part 2: The API Trap and the Death of Precision – How the industry fell in love with "How" and forgot building for a "Why" to solve a  real-world problem.
• Part 3: Escaping the Mercenary Mindset – The difference between building for a "Why" and building for an "Exit."
• Part 4: The Final Requirement – Knowing when you’re "Done" and why a 25-year-olds needs your perspective more than  your seat.

Welcome to the afterlife. Now, let's start separating the "wheat" from the "chaff".

The Hardware is Just a Pane of Glass

The Lesson: Why the M1 you kept is more "Industrial" than the M5 they want you to buy.

In the 1980s, at companies like Sun and IBM, we didn't build "gadgets"; we built infrastructure. When you document a power grid or a workstation meant to last 15 years, your "Why" is Stability. You learn that the hardware is a vessel, not a fashion statement.

Today, the industry tries to convince you that the "How" (the newest M5 MacBook Pro) is the magic. But as veterans, we know the truth: The hardware is just a pane of glass. By running the latest OS on "old" M1 Mac Mini hardware, you aren't being cheap—you are being an industrialist. You are proving that the value lies in the synthesis of information, not what "typewriter" is used.

To Tech Writers: Stop chasing the latest tool. Master the ability to make the tool irrelevant. If your work can't survive a hardware migration, it isn't "Wheat"; it’s "Chaff."

Why "How" is Taking Center Stage Over "Why"

The Lesson: A smarter API doesn't make a better business.

We are currently repeating the "API Hoopla" of the early 2000s, but with LLM prompts. Developers are enamored with the feat of integration—showing how "smart" they are by connecting a cloud brain to a UI.

But as GE learned with Predix, customers don't pay for "smart" demos; they pay for Results. In an Agile world, documentation has become a fragmented stream of "How-to" snippets that satisfy a Jira ticket but fail the user’s "Why."

To Tech Writers: Your job is not to describe the API. Your job is to be the Architect of the Requirement. If the AI generates a thousand pages of "slop," your role is to find the ten pages that solve a real-world problem. Precision is the only thing that scales.

Escaping the Mercenary" Mindset

The Lesson: The "Exit" is a liquidity event, not a career.

The tech world is now populated by "Mercenaries" working for the "Vesting Date." This mindset creates Hollow Products—software built to be sold to a conglomerate, not to be used by a human.

When you work for the "Exit," you sacrifice the "Why" of the user for the "Monetize" of the shareholder. You become the "Professional Asshole" doing the work others won't touch. But there is another path: the Stewardship model. We stayed at our posts not for the stock options, but because we took pride in the structural integrity of the information.

To Tech Writers: You will be tempted to join the "Hustle." But remember: Stock vests, but your reputation for Integrity is the only "Rainy Day Fund" that never devalues. Don't be the person who writes the lie that sells the company; be the person who writes the truth that saves the user.

The Final Requirement

The Lesson: Winning the game means leaving the table.

There is a final stage in a high-tech career that no HR rep will ever explain: the moment you realize you have fulfilled your own requirements. When the roof is paid for and the rainy-day fund is full, the "Why" of your work must shift.

If you continue to grind for the same goals you had at the beginning of your career, you are just "Stagnating" in a seat that a 25-year-old needs to find their own "Wheat." But "Done" doesn't mean "Finished." You are finally free to tell a a 25-year old the Why.

To Tech Veterans: A 25-year old needs your perspective..A 25-year old needs to know that it's possible to work for 40 years and leave with a clear conscience and an old M1 Mac Mini that still works like a dream.

The Second Time Around (Postscript)

 I once actively pursued many pastimes when I was young : hiking in the Santa Cruz mountains; kayaking on Monterey Bay;  mountain biking to Mission Peak; or just reading a book while listening to my favorite jazz music.

Somehow , those  pastimes became less important as I began to focus my time and effort on  the daily grind of putting a roof over my head, food on the table, clothes on my back, and a few dollars in the bank for a rainy day.

The daily grind  became a 45-year "career" as a full-time employee and contractor in Silicon Valley: 17 jobs that lasted 6 months to 6 years (and  the 7 layoffs that lasted 3 to 11 months).

As a full-time employee, the daily grind consisted of constantly looking over my shoulder after being let go despite working long hours to meet tight deadlines.

As a contractor, the daily grind consisted of leaving without a trace after 6:00 pm since I was no longer obsessed with the golden handcuffs (eg, health insurance, 401(k) plan, or stock options) that shackled full-time employees to the notion of "job security".

The daily grind eventually came  to an end when I moved to a more leisurely (and more affordable) lifestyle in the Central Valley near Sacramento (see Nothing Personal, Just Business).

Friends and family have asked me what I’m doing now.  I simply reply that I'm on a "sabbatical". I don't bring work home with me. I don't unwind from the stress of 60 hour work weeks that made me dread Mondays. I'm not obsessed with layoffs that made me dread Wednesdays.

Today,  I focus my time and effort on dealing with peripheral neuropathy.

You see, my  life ha a a meaning, purpose, and plan. I just have to remember that it's not up to me to know (or understand) all of the details.

Three Rules (Epilogue)

I reflected on an article that states 20 years from now the only people who will remember that you worked late are your children. You see, I never took the time when I graduated from college to settle down, get married, and raise a family. Instead, I lived vicariously as a parental figure to my goddaughter Janelle (who still calls me Ninong), my nieces Lauren and Lacie (who still call me Uncle Joe), and my grandkids Deja, Dillon,  and Jayla (who still call me Tata Joe). 

I focused  my time on a “career” that consisted of 17 jobs since I graduated from college  (being employed anywhere from six months to six years). During that time, I survived 7 layoffs lasting anywhere from 3 to 11 months. I also worked as a contractor for three different companies in four years. Every time, I managed to put food on the table, clothes on my back, a roof over my head, and put a few dollars in the bank for a rainy day as I accepted that my “career” would often consist of looking for the next job.

So, I consider my biggest achievement is the time and attention that I devoted to my "babies". Through a lifetime of family gatherings  such as birthday parties and backyard barbecues, I loved each of them as though they were my own, doting on them and spoiling them for sure, but also ready with a stern word should the occasion arise. 

And when I got laid off for the first time in 1994, it gave me time to do more than just put food on the table, clothes on my back, and a roof over my head — it also gave me the chance to spend time with my goddaughter Janelle and recite my three rules for the first time: 

    • "Please and thank you."

    • "You have to listen." 

    • "You cannot always have your way."

Those rules served as a compass when that day eventually came, they could go to farther off places and I know they would be all right.

"Please and thank you” is a reminder to be respectful of others, and that “No” is a complete sentence (no reason needs to be given).

"You have to listen” is a reminder to consider others in your choices and be accountable to others for your actions.

"You cannot always have your way” is a reminder that if it is not possible for you to accept people, places, situations, or outcomes for what they are, then it is probably about “you” rather than about “them”.

When it came time, I let them go so they could close their eyes, dream big, open their eyes, and work hard to make their dreams come true. I only remind them that just as important as what they accomplish in their careers is the kind of person they become along the way. 

Serenity

As part of my morning routine during the trying times we all live in, I have been taught to recite a prayer that is often quoted as:

God grant me the serenity,
To accept the things I cannot change, 
Courage to change the things that I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

The complete version of the Serenity Prayer, that I use goes something like this:

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change (ie people, places, situations, and outcomes),
Courage to change the things that I can (Ie, my attitudes and my actions),
and the wisdom to know the difference (ie, Thy will, not mine, be done).
Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking, as He did,
This sinful world as it is,
Not as I would have it,
Trusting that He will make all things right,
If I surrender to His will,
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with Him forever in the next.

— Reinhold Niebur

I found that the short form is like a billboard you see along the highway -- easily recognized, yet not always understood. The longer version for me is like a roadmap that I can use to navigate the highway from Point A to Point B, with clear directions about the route I need to take and milestones that I can look for along the way.

You see, I am often tempted to sum up my life goals as buzz words that can fit on that billboard along the highway -- serenity, acceptance, courage, wisdom. But I don't have a clue at times on how to achieve these goals.

So when life hits me with Doom (the fear of losing what I have) or Gloom (the fear of not getting what I want), those buzz words often ring hollow in what I actually say and do.

Then, I react to rumors of layoffs, news that friends and colleagues have been laid off, or even when a boss doesn't smile at me when we pass in the hallway, by resorting to that persistent worry "How does this affect me?"

So, before I begin the insanity that I can easily make of the day by drifting into selfish, dishonest, or self-seeking motives, I try to reflect on what the complete version of the Serenity Prayer is intended to remind me.

Serenity can come to me whenever I take the day as it comes without the expectation that life should be "happily ever after" if everybody (including myself) would just behave.

When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing or situation – some fact of my life – unacceptable to me. I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment. Nothing, absolutely nothing, happens in God’s world by mistake.

Acceptance can come to me whenever I am willing to do the footwork and let a God of my understanding determine the outcome for the good of all (not just for me). Unless I accept life completely on life’s terms, I cannot be happy.

Courage can come to me whenever a faith in a God of my understanding gives me the strength to do the next right thing even if it doesn't make me "look good" or "feel good". I need to concentrate not so much on what needs to be changed in the world as on what needs to be changed in my attitudes and my actions.

Wisdom can come to me whenever my words and actions show that a God of my understanding is doing for me what I cannot do for myself. This becomes possible when I let go of my ideas about what should be and embrace what is instead.

In other words, letting go of my ego allows me to be reasonably happy in this life, and supremely happy forever in the next.  I ask a God of my understanding for the willingness to do the next right thing even if it doesn’t make me “look good” or “feel good”. Then I  let a God of my understanding determine the outcome for the good of all (not just for me).

Count My Blessings

I admit that I have been hard on myself (and others) for quite a while now. So, before I start feeling too sorry for wasting my precious time, I'll restart my day by counting the blessings that did come my way:

• I see that my attitude has changed from "the glass is half empty" to "the glass is half full". Perhaps a small change (like making lemonade when you're given lemons), but I hope one that will lead to better and more fulfilling choices.
• I learned to accept life on life's terms. I could only face the challenges with my health and employment due to the encouragement and understanding of  friends and colleagues who shared  their own experience, strength and hope with me.
• I came to terms with a kind and loving God of my understanding. Over time, I see that God is doing for me what I cannot not do for myself. Indeed, I now  accept that my life has a meaning, purpose, and plan beyond just a knee jerk reaction to the self-centered fears of Doom (the fear of losing what I have) and Gloom (the fear of not getting what I want).
• I can move on now that my footwork is done and I have turned  the outcome over to God. I put my life on hold as I dealt  with the financial and emotional insecurity moving from the San Francisco Bay  Area to the San Joaquin Valley near Sacramento (see The Second Time Around). Perhaps, for the first time in a long time, I can honestly say that today is the first day of the rest of my life.

I'm feeling better already.

 

That Was Then, This Is Now

 I've noticed that there  are certain personal traits  that can prevent me from living life on life's terms: thoughts that become words; words that become actions; actions that become habits; habits that shape character, character that determines  destiny.

Along with the 17 jobs that lasted 6 months to 6 years.  the 7 layoffs that lasted 3 to 11 months taught me a (somewhat) pragmatic  approach  to work as expressed by these  rules:

"Nothing personal, just business". Although managers  may say that they value me and my contributions, anyone is expendable if the bottom line takes a nosedive.

"If the boss says jump, ask how high." Either my words and actions have a positive impact on the bottom line, or I'm being added to the list of the next to be let go (this follows the "one finger points   out, three fingers point back" rule).

"Little changes now prepare me for the big change later".  Either I adapt as change inevitably happens, or I resist change and (eventually) get added to that list of the next to be let go.

I recall an incident over 10 years ago that serves as a constant reminder of how much my character has changed (and how much it has stayed the same).  I once watched a younger colleague--who looked much like me when I graduated from college -- act much like me when I graduated from college. This younger colleague berated another during work hours for being incompetent and wasting his precious time in a very public setting (well, there really is no privacy when you work in cubicles). The younger  colleague was let go shortly  afterwards.

While I was shocked at the poor manners of my younger colleague,  I realized  how my own  words and actions could  put me on the list of those to be let go next (or the infamous "sh-t list"). You see, I could  be  the most talented and accomplished  employee on paper, but  I also could be expendable  simply because I was unbearable.  Like my younger  colleague, my  bosses and colleagues may have put up with me, perhaps out of equal doses of empathy and pragmatism, only to be confronted with restlessness, irritability, and discontent. 

Time Out (Redux)

 I'm taking a time out because I've  hit that proverbial fork in the road, and I need to figure out  which way to turn. It started over a year ago  when I was told that I needed cataract surgery to correct my vision. Then, the COVID-19 pandemic hit in March and my surgery was cancelled. It was not until this month that I was  eligible  for the operation again.

As I look back,  I can see that I've been running around for the past year  trying to do the right thing and I  forgot that it was OK just to be me.  You see, I couldn't just call a time out like a football game to allow the medical personnel to come out on the field.

Instead, life just continued with the weekday  grind of putting a roof over my head, food on the table, clothes on my back, and a few dollars in the bank for the bills that need to be paid. On the other hand, I must admit that all of my needs (and many of wants) were met.

Still, I do catch myself saying "Been there, done that" all too often when I read job descriptions, a sure sign that I am becoming complacent -- or just plain bored. Perhaps it's time for me to move on after 30 years as a technical writer: 17 jobs that lasted 6 months to 6 years (including the 7 layoffs that lasted 3 to 11 months). 

Or, perhaps  it's just  time for me to thank the God of my understanding for doing for me what I cannot do for myself.

Another Day, Another Dollar (Redux)

 After looking over my LinkedIn profile, a recruiter reached out just to explore the possibility of working remotely on a full-time basis after I moved from the San Francisco Bay Area to the San Joaquin Valley near Sacramento.

The recruiter scheduled a day and time to call me. I waited, but the call never happened. I followed up with a message suggesting that it would be better for me to call at a day and time that the recruiter would be available.

After the arrangements were confirmed, the recruiter did not answer the phone when I called and I could not leave voicemail.

The runaround continued for several days before I sent a message stating I was no longer interested.

Still, I wasn't really disappointed about the outcome. You see, I'm taking a well-deserved sabbatical after working for a slew of pre-IPO startups to Fortune 500 companies: 17 jobs that lasted 6 months to 6 years along with the 7 layoffs that lasted 3 to 11 months.

My  life does have a meaning, purpose, and plan. I just have to remember that it's not up to me to know (or understand) all of the details.

Three Rules (Redux)

 When it came time, I let go of my two  oldest granddaughters so they could close their eyes, dream big, and work hard to make their dreams come true.

You see, I didn't quite know how to prepare them for a work environment that is so different since I started my 37-year "career" as a full-time employee and contractor: 17 jobs that lasted 6 months to 6 years along with 7 layoffs that lasted 3 to 11 months (see Plan B).

So, first of all, I gave each granddaughter a book on career planning (Do What You Are by Paul Tieger and The Pathfinder by Nicholas Lore).

Then, I wrote a letter based on my experience as words of encouragement to sustain them along the way.

I'm passing on an excerpt of that letter for those who may need the same encouragement:

"I'm giving you a book that I hope will prepare you for the many changes that will occur during your career — some you get to choose, some that will be chosen for you.

Consider the book as a roadmap to navigate those changes. Keep in mind to always consider the words of the author with your own personal experiences (ie, take what you like and leave the rest).

But just as important as the journey is the kind of person you become along the way. Since you were young, I recited my three rules:

• “Please and thank you."
• "You have to listen."
• "You cannot always have your way.”

These three rules will serve as a compass when you go to far off places, and I will know you will be all right.

“Please and thank you.” is a reminder to be respectful of others, and that "No" is a complete sentence (no reason needs to be given).

“You have to listen.” is a reminder  to consider others in your choices and to be accountable to others for your actions.

“You cannot always have your way.” is a reminder that if it is not possible for you to accept people, places, situations, or outcomes for what they are, then it is  probably about "you"  rather than about “them”.

So, with a roadmap and compass in hand, my fondest wish is for you to find a fulfilling career with a meaning,  purpose, and plan."

Older and Wiser (Part 2)

 I recall getting together with a good friend for the graduation of his oldest daughter from college. We took the opportunity to compare notes about how we started our careers after college.

You see, my friend took the conventional route: he got a nine-to-five job, married his college sweetheart, and started a family. He raised his two daughters and son to excel in everything they did with the same drive and discipline that was instilled in both of us by our parents.

As we gazed at his family over dinner, we reflected on how we were in our 20s. Yes, we were overachievers, but we also shared our parent's expectations for success. As a result, we often expressed those expectations in much the same way as our parents.

Or perhaps differently, when we caught ourselves in those moments. We remembered how those words made us feel when we were in our 20s, and soften the tone to come across as suggestions rather than as expectations.

Hindsight may not be 20/20, but it does show how we become older and wiser.

Older and Wiser

I caught up with a former colleague over dinner. At one point during our conversation, he asked me whether my outlook on life has changed because I’m older and wiser. Being stumped for an answer, I just replied that I'm more experienced about life.

You see, when I was younger, I thought that anything was possible if I just set my mind on it. Less than a year after graduating from college, I landed my dream job as a magazine editor that I thought would surely make me happy forever (or at least until I retired).

But after six years of tight deadlines and endless travel, I decided that I just wanted a reasonable commute between home and work. So, I became a technical writer in Silicon Valley: a total of 17 jobs that lasted anywhere from 6 months to 6 years along with the 7 layoffs that lasted 3 to 11 months.

Looking back, I admit not every choice I made during that time brought me to the place where I am today. Through the best of the boom times and the worst of the bust times, those choices did teach me two lessons:

• I'm not always going to get my way;

• Even if I do get my way. the outcome seldom meets my expectations.

Was it because self-reliance failed me? Self-reliance was good as far as it went, but it often did not go far enough.

So, perhaps older and wiser may just mean that when life hands me lemons I make lemonade. 

The Second Time Around

 I once actively pursued past times when I was young: kayaking on Montterey Bay; hiking in the Santa Cruz mountains; mountain biking on Mission Peak; or just reading a book while listening to my favorite jazz music.

Somehow, those past times became less important than the daily  grind of putting a roof over my head, food on the table, clothes on my back, and a few dollars in the bank for a rainy day.

That daily grind eventually became a 37-year "career" as a full-time employee and contractor ranging from pre-IPO startups to Fortune 500 companies in Silicon Valley: 17 jobs that lasted 6 months to 6 years (and  7 layoffs lasting 3 to 11 months).

As a full-time employee, the daily grind consisted of constantly looking over my shoulder after being let go despite working long hours to meet tight project deadlines.

As a contractor, the daily grind consisted of leaving without a trace after 6:00 pm since I no focus on the golden handcuffs (eg, health insurance, 401(k) plan, or stock options) that shackle full-time employees to the notion of "job security".

The daily grind eventually came to an end when I decided to move to a more leisurely (and affordable) lifestyle in the San Joaquin Valley near Sacramento (see Nothing Personal, Just Business).

Friends and family ask me what I’m doing now.  I reply that I'm on a sabbatical. I don't bring work home with me. I don't unwind from the stress of 60 hour work weeks that made me dread Mondays. I don't obsess about layoffs that made me dread Thursdays.

My attention is gradually returning to those past times that I once pursued. I live near Lodi Lake with direct access to the Mokelumne River for kayaking, hiking, and mountain biking.I also set aside time to just relax and read a book while listening to my favorite jazz music.

You see, my  life has always had a a meaning, purpose, and plan. I just have to remember that it's not up to me to know (or understand) all of the details.

Feelings Are Not Facts

I''m finally coming to terms with Doom (the self-centered fear of losing what I have) and Gloom (the self-centered fear of not getting what I want). I have this knack for subtly distorting present circumstances with recollections of disappointment, frustration, and resentment. The chatter of Doom and Gloom make me wonder about what would happen next if the other shoe fell.

You see, I drag my past into the present whenever I treat feelings as "facts". Some person, place, situation, or outcome is not what I expect, and I overreact as I am taken out of my comfort zone of what is known and familiar.

A common term for this malaise is "doubt".  My past reminds me that I'm not so sure that I know what's best for me (or others). Doubt leads to fear when I am faced with making choices based on selfish or self-seeking motives, accompanied by guilt and remorse knowing that I'm accountable for the outcome of those choices.

So, just for today, I will make decisions and act on them rather than slip into the whirlpool of doubt that turns feelings into "false evidence appearing real".

Plan B

 I recall a proverb attributed to the Chinese philosopher Lao-Tzu that goes something like this: “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” A literal interpretation would be that the longest and most arduous venture has a starting point.

When I was young, I believed that anything was possible if I just set my mind on it. Less than a year after graduating from college, I told myself that my dream job as a magazine editor would make me happy forever (or at least until I retired). But after six years of tight deadlines and endless travel, I told myself that I just wanted a career with a reasonable commute. So, I went to work for another 30 years as a technical writer in Silicon Valley: 17 jobs that lasted anywhere from 6 months to 6 years (as well as 7 layoffs that lasted 3 to 11 months).

Looking back, it seemed that my 37-year journey was somehow scripted to happen the way that it turned out. On the other hand, not every step along the way was  so orderly. You see, the endless chatter of Doom and Gloom (those self-centered fears of losing what I have or not getting what I want) often made me wonder what would happen if the other shoe fell.

Well, for today, the other shoe has fallen on solid ground. Day by day, what I receive is what I need, not always what I want – those blessings that I never expect but get anyway. I have a roof over my head, food on the table, clothes on my back, and a few dollars left over for a rainy day. I have my health (physical, mental, and spiritual) despite the many ups and downs. I have the love of friends and family who have supported me through those ups and downs.

I have always had a meaning, purpose, and plan for my life. I just have to remember that it's not up to me to know (or understand) all of the details.

Nothing Personal, Just Business

Nothing really prepared me for my last day working in Silicon Valley -- not the 16 previous jobs that lasted anywhere from 6 months to 6 years, nor the 7 layoffs that lasted 3 to 11 months. You see, I follow a familiar routine waiting for the other shoe to drop having worked as a full-time employee and contractor for the past 30 years.

As a full-time employee, I constantly look over my shoulder after being let go despite  working long hours to meet tight project deadlines.

As a contractor, I leave without a trace after 6:00 pm since I no longer fret about the golden handcuffs (ie, health insurance, 401(k) plans, and stock options) that shackle full-time employees to the notion of "job security". I am also wary of offers to “audition” for the job on a contract to permanent basis.

But this time was different. I felt the grip of Doom (the self-centered  fear of losing what I have) and Gloom (the self-centered  fear or not getting what I want) settling in for a long stay as I struggled for months to recover from recurring bouts of bronchitis and asthma.

Finally, I reached out to my manager and shared my concern that the stress from work was affecting my health. My manager followed up with HR right away to address the issue. With my doctor's approval, I was  placed on a three week disability leave. Accepting what seemed inevitable, I admitted that I was done.

Then, a funny thing happened. I was relieved that  I no longer needed to unwind from the stress of 60 hour work weeks that made me dread Mondays or obsess about layoffs that made me dread Wednesdays.

What I finally realized was that it's all about doing the next right thing: putting food on the table, clothes on my back, a roof over my head, and a few dollars in the bank for a rainy day.

And especially learning to live one day at a time (a lesson that takes a lifetime).

I once explored the possibility of moving to a more leisurely  and affordable lifestyle in the Central Valley near Sacramento (see You Never Know). After talking with my financial  advisors, I was ready to tell my manager that I quit and sell my home in the Bay Area.

A good friend said that I just took the opportunity to lay myself off.