I have a friend I meet in the pub every Friday night who makes little tin boxes as a job. That’s right: little tin boxes...all day every day, the sum fruit of his day-to-day, nine-to-five existence. Judging by that sentence you’d think he was depressed, right? Sad and annoyed at the world and feeling like he’s in a bit of a rut. Only here’s the thing with this man: he’s perfectly happy with his job, and every day he goes home to his wife and three children and says how good his day is.
Because his job is actually quite good, you see. It’s boring, but not boring enough to kill his brain cells, and this means that while he thinks about each of his little boxes he has space free in his brain to consider all the creative things he likes to do. This means that during the day his brain considers what he will create later on – he like to paint in his free time – and by the time he gets home the idea is fully formed. All he has to do is make it reality.
So you could say he has the work / home-life balance right. He’s happy with where he is, and the irony is that all the people who tend to surround us in the pub – not because we like to be the centre of attention you understand, but because we have a habit of sitting in the middle of the pub – are the unhappy ones. Annoyed with their lives, and without any time to enjoy the money they rake in every month.
I’m not saying that my friends way works for everyone. It doesn’t. But it does work, and it proves that sometimes being happy is born from living life in the most unlikely way.