Stirrings Amidst the Ruins
By Ron Tugender
The Ruins
Have you ever walked around the remains of some great, ancient civilization, like the Colosseum or Machu Picchu? You likely marveled at the brilliance of their culture, their ability to construct such magnificent artifacts that live well beyond the civilization that created them.
Even though the structures are still impressive, you know that they are but shadows of the original creations, worn by eons of neglect, erosion and decay. Perhaps you feel a certain pity — or judgment — for the proud yet tragic people who perished, capable of such great accomplishment, yet still succumbing to some fatal flaw.
Today I walk around such ruins. It’s called my life.
At first glance, the artifacts are on display: the spacious townhouse ... the sport coupe ... the resume packed with 6-figure titles … the bachelor lifestyle. But closer examination shows how worn the façade is: currently unemployed ... two divorces, no current relationship ... financial reserves zeroed, facing imminent loss of house and accompanying lifestyle. That life once seemed enormously successful, unstoppable. Yet somehow it has fallen down to lie in tattered pieces, a shadow of what it was. How did it fall? Where was its fatal flaw?
I’ve pondered these questions for years. Running through my personal, professional and relationship experiences, there are just two consistent threads: painful outcomes, and me.
The Elusive Realization
Of course, it couldn’t be me. I’m a Good Guy. Good things are supposed to happen to me. If bad things happened, it had to be because of something “out there”: the boss, the company, the job, the project, the timing, the organization, the economic cycle, the woman, the money. But what if I’ve changed bosses, companies, jobs, projects, timing, organizations, economics, women, money and the bad stuff keeps happening? How long before I run out of scapegoats?
For me, about 47 years. I’ve finally exhausted other places to look. Maybe the problem is me.
BAM! That realization flattened me like a runaway express train. As I lay in the naked truth of it, I realized I’d been riding that train for years, with my runaway ego at the controls.
The Giddy Ride Up
I’m a classic techno-nerd. I was always great at science and math. I had a mind for details, I loved solving puzzles, and I was good at it. That all led me into the burgeoning milieu of computer geekdom and eventually to its epicenter, Silicon Valley. There my technical skills were pertinent, in demand and well rewarded.
But Silicon Valley is much more than a geek playground; it is also home to rampant ambition, unparalleled opportunity and conspicuous consumption. Even my nerd ego was seduced by its siren call.
The initial call was deceptively subtle. Just step out and try a lead role. Then notice how much faster the management track ascends than the technical one. Convince myself that despite zero experience or training, I could be a manager. Fake it well enough to convince headhunters and hiring managers that I could take on ever bigger roles with increasing responsibilities and higher titles and more money. So it all seemed to be working, for a while.
But as my management responsibilities grew, so did my inner turbulence. The management path was taking me further away from the technical work I loved. Instead I got more enmeshed in issues, tasks and ethical compromises where I was barely competent and that I largely despised. I became increasingly fearful that I would be outed as the impostor I felt I was.
My outer and inner worlds were on a collision course but my ego, still at the controls, seemed determined to take me to the tippy-top of the roller coaster. From that point, there was only one direction to go.
The Train Wreck Awaiting Down the Other Side
The way down started slowly. Two successive projects I led went belly-up, but the blame was laid at higher levels so I emerged largely unscathed..
I began to find myself more and more at odds with the management I worked for. In job after job, I’d perceive my management as narrow-minded and unethical, whereas to them I was uncompromising verging on insubordinate. My grandiosity knew no bounds; I even went so far as to attempt to unseat a CEO. Needless to say, that futile coup attempt led me to the exit with a box in my hands.
The descent accelerated as my job tenure shrank from years to months. My distancing from technical work left me no longer a viable technologist, and my management profile had gone from golden boy to contrarian to insurrectionist. To my horror, I had become effectively unemployable.
The ego trip I’d taken, and the collision course it set me on with myself, had come to its inevitable conclusion: lying on the tracks in despair and confusion.
The Stirring
Hitting bottom is the ultimate sobering experience. The sugar high of ego had collapsed into the dark emptiness of not knowing who I was any more. But miraculously, after chasing so long after what wasn’t me, that emptiness created an opening to discover what was.
This was an entirely different kind of seeking. It wasn’t about doing or achieving or accruing, it was about being and allowing. It was time to honor what I was authentically drawn to instead of the shiny objects that were so alluring yet empty.
Wait, I sense something stirring here. Maybe my civilization isn’t quite dead yet.
Key Take-aways:
Taking a path strictly for ego gratification is unlikely to end well.
It took a professional crash to jar me into being true to myself.