I am good at giving other people advice as to what work they should do. But when it comes to myself, of course this is more difficult.
For a while I have been dissatisfied with what I am doing. I felt that I had been given this disability in order to something special with my life. My current work selling Internet ads and managing Google accounts didn't seem to be that worthwhile to mankind. As a result, I did less work and racked my brains for something new to do. Just doing exercise and keeping the house together isn't enough for me.
Anyway, work came to me, so I did it as we need the money. I even ventured to visit a client in my wheelchair. Funnily enough, I began to realize that I was getting pleasure from the work. Also I was proving that a disabled person does still have a brain!
Then came the message from above that I was waiting for - but in a very unexpected place and manner.
Last week I had to go into hospital for a minor procedure. Unfortunately we had to take a private doctor, and go to a private hospital in Petach Tikva. Rather different to the normal Israeli hospital.
So they had me all kitted out in the very appealing operating gown, cap and sox waiting to see the anesthetist. The normal questions came (in Hebrew), then the more difficult ones. What was my work? I thought this was a test question to check I had all my "faculties". As my Hebrew is poor, I just said Marketing. Not good enough for the doctor. What sort of Marketing? Hmm, try explaining this in simple Hebrew to a Russian doctor. So I said "Internet marketing like advertising on Google". (I was hoping he would at least know what Google is, and stop asking me more questions).
No, he carried on. "So you must be rich" he said. Haha. I fell for that one. "No way" I said, "You must earn more than me". Then came the killer answer. "I only earn 27 shekels an hour (approx. $6)" he said. I was dumbfounded - I pay much more than this to a house cleaner! So we carried on chatting, and the nurse joined in saying she earnt the same amount.
At the end of this conversation, I just thought what a strange country we live in.
But that's not the end of the story.
I'm in the operating room, having maneuvered myself up to the operating table by 2 doctors. My legs are hoisted up in the air, a drip is in my arm and I am waiting for a nice sleep. Then comes in another doctor and says to me "I hear you do Google work". Well, that's it. There can't be a clearer message to me from above that this is the work I should be doing.
Is there a morale to this story for anyone else? Maybe.
A career - or work as I think of it now - doesn't have to be saving the world or making millions. It should be fun, bring in a few pennies (shekels or dollars are also OK), but most importantly make you feel good about yourself.
Monday, March 09, 2009
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