I find myself thinking about work today. The irony that we celebrate it on this holiday by not doing it. The fact that I don’t think we really understand the role it plays in our life.
In recent years, in times of unemployment or discontent, a couple different friends have asked me what my dream job would be. That question has struck me as not quite right. Wouldn’t all of us pursuing vocational nirvana lead to a world with about 27,000 travel writers, 51,000 NBA stars, 348 happy gals naming lipstick shades, and maybe one endearingly nerdy guy to do all our taxes? Who would collect our trash? Who would run the convenience stores to sell us Tylenol or Oreos at 2:30 in the morning?
I’ve felt similar hesitation when I’ve heard snippets of graduation speeches telling our young people to go follow their dreams and change the world.