6. Security

Security is a mirage… the faster you run the further it recedes into the distant horizon. It is an illusion. An impossible goal. Life happens. There’s an old saying… if you want to make God laugh tell him all about your plans. Let’s look at just the salary job situation. There are three possible outcomes.

1. Not Meeting Quota. You are miserable and fatalistic. You know you are doomed and it’s just a matter of time. You know you should be planning an exit but you procrastinate wishing against all odds for a miracle so you can pay your rent. Times up, You get canned and are screwed. It’s doubtful you will be offered another cushy salary gig. You decide to go back to manual labor.

2. Barely Meeting Quota. The Sword of Damocles hangs over your head. You live an anxious desperate life. You can’t see or plan for a future. You exist without glory or accomplishment. You are a replaceable cog in the corporate machine and a drone in India will work for 25% of what you make. If not AI is knocking at your door.

3. Top Performer. You are worshipped and envied. You get bonuses and kudos from the boss. You walk on water. You spend future money with abandon and without care. Out of the blue the company is sold and your position goes to a top gun in the parent company. Or maybe outsourced to Antartica.

You are 47 and over the hill. No longer the young dashing go-getter. Your hair is shrinking while your gut is expanding. You buy a gym membership and die your hair. You polish up your resume. It is shameless and should win a Pulitzer Prize for Fiction.

You work your contact list to tell them you are back on the market. Crickets. Most are struggling too. You blast out endless resumes online. You boast more than Sam Altman raising more billions for AI. What you say is the same thing the long line of hopefuls say and what the AI algorithm HR uses does not consider.

You never saved much so are soon broke and scared. You sell the Harley, boat and the summer home. You cash in your 401K and sell the gold. You use the kid’s college funds to pay the mortgage. You put your house on the market and quickly discover there are a glut of sellers with few buyers who all want to steal it from you. You would sell your Yukon Denali but you are so upside down from financing rollovers that you speak fluent Aussie. It costs over $100 to feed the beast every week so you dust off the old bicycle. It’s good exercise.

Everyday as the mail hits the box you stare at a fresh stack of late payment notices. Your credit cards are maxed out and the college loans delinquent. You are demeaned and threatened by collection agents from New Delhi that you can’t understand. It becomes a cheap hobby to play along and mess with their heads. For fun you try out different accents from Deep-South redneck to Brit.

Your young second trophy wife married you for your money and status so follows them out the door. She gets half of your stuff plus alimony and child support. You are now a slave to her and the state. Your dream for the future is crushed. Uber is offering you another ride fare and you take it.