I am fortunate to count among my friends a few people outside of my cohort. One older friend is a physician colleague I've known, liked and trusted from my prior life in the ED. We grew closer as we worked together in administrative roles over the past several years.
This friend has known financial success and now pals around with peers in a second home community that he describes as orders of magnitude wealthier than the average retired physician. He enjoys picking their brains when they cross paths.
Over coffee yesterday, he relayed to me an interaction he had with an entrepreneurial couple that had built a significant business, asking them how they selected employees for top positions.
He began by explaining how he had hired other docs in his practice, carefully reviewing their educational pedigrees, letters of recommendation, experience and prior malpractice history.
The couple looked at him across the table, shaking their heads. They insisted that none of that was relevant, explaining:
We look for two traits - character and drive.
Their assessment rang true to the tangential understanding I've come to have with a few tech friends after attending college and medical school in Silicon Valley - investors are looking to invest in founders they can believe in.
This is such an axiom that venture capitalists may fund the initial dud ideas those founders are looking to throw at the wall in the belief that when they have the big idea they'll give the right of first refusal to their early investors.
My friend was using this story as a compliment to soften unsolicited career advice - he generously thought me capable of advancement within my field, and wanted to ensure I was positioned to do so.
Here's the catch - despite my friend's best intentions, at my current stage of life, I lack professional ambition. It's not that I don't care about the work I do - I give myself to it completely when I am in the midst of it.
But my drive is not directed to my career as it once was. My aspirations are to be around for the magical half hour each day when the kids might be inclined to talk to me; to grow together with my wife and invest time in our relationship so that we remember what brought us together once the kids leave home; to learn new skills and follow my curiosity; to read; to deepen friendships; to travel; to maintain a writing practice (spoiler alert - you're reading it).
I tried to describe this shift in priorities to my friend, and after a short while, he nodded.
You've got the character, but not the drive.
Bingo - but the last hour I'd spent with him was perfectly aligned with my goals.
I thanked him for the kind words, he thanked me for the coffee, and we went our separate ways.