Eighteen months ago, I embarked on a new career path. I left behind construction sites and portable toilets. I piled my hand tools in a corner of the garage. I stuck my boots in the back of the closet. I gave away my trusty Carhartt double-front dungarees.
I work every day at a little table next to a server closet, with a man whose resemblance to Rain Man is uncanny. I wear khakis and button-down shirts. I get to use real toilets with running water. It's unusual for me to hear profanity in the course of business.
I've gotten a lot out of my first tech job. I think my people skills—oddly enough—have developed more than my technical skills have. And it's time to move on.
I need to branch out, and this is my chance to do so. I'll make a little more money, but that's honestly not the point. I need to be in a place where I can challenge myself to keep growing, where I'm set up for success. I think my new job improves on my current one in that way.
I know I'm a little light on detail here, and that's intentional. I'm making a concerted effort to dial back my public blathering about my job, as I've realized I'm not doing myself or anyone else any favors by revealing everything.
I'm sure I'll falter and fall into my old habit from time to time, but I'll keep trying to keep my piehole shut in hopes of keeping my backside out of trouble.