1.28.2005
Managing Me, Inc.
"Cash rules everything around me | C.R.E.A.M. Get the money | Dollar, dollar bill y'all..." ~Wu-Tang Clan
When I decided I was going to write a novel, I wrote a novel. When I decided I was going to publish a novel I published a novel. When I decided I was going to take back my life and live it like it was meant to be live, I choked...
Old habits die hard, you know? Especially those habits that provide a measure of comfort in our lives. For some of us it’s our jobs, our friends, our love interests even our families. For me it was a combination of all of the above. I was used to a certain lifestyle and freedom, true freedom, meant releasing some of the chains I had knowing placed on myself.
Of all these chains C.R.E.A.M. was and sometimes still is the hardest to let go. As a junior executive at one of the most powerful retirement companies in the world, a brother was set. In the eyes of many I was living the American Dream and setting an admirable precedence for a generation of onlookers to follow. But, I wasn’t happy.
Yeah I was able to secure many of the toys boys my age love to purchase. Yes I was able to wine and dine at some of New York City’s top restaurants. Yes I was able to book trips to far off countries some would love to visit. Yeah, I could do all those things and more but every morning I awoke incomplete and unsatisfied with my career, my purpose and my life. I hated my boss, the floor on which I worked, the transit system I was forced to utilize on a daily basis and the idea my time was not being spent helping those in need, but rather fattening the pockets of those already financially and [for the most part] emotionally secured.
C.R.E.A.M. kept me there though. Me and many, many others. You would be surprised, or maybe you wouldn’t, to know just how many people woke every morning to make it on time to a job they barely could stand all for the mighty, mighty dollar. How else would they be able to afford that house, that car, that midnight cruise to nowhere? So many of them dreamed, like me, to free themselves; every last one of them had a plan; a way out; a solution. But almost all of them were too afraid to act, except of course my boy Wave who reported to me one day: “Next week I’m out.”
Me: “Out? What do you mean out?”
Wave: “I’m ghost. History. Out of here.”
Me: “Word? What you got another job lined up?”
Wave: “Nawh. I’m just sick of this shit. I need a change.”
Me: “But how are you gonna live?”
Wave: “The same way I did before I came here, well. I’d forgotten that until the other day. I used to have dreams man. Big dreams. And this j-o-b has all but squashed them. It’s time I got them back.”
Me: “That’s peace man." I replied and nodded toward a nearby office. "You told them yet?”
Wave: “Nope.”
Me: “No? You’re just gonna leave, like that? No two weeks notice?”
Wave: “Let me ask you something bruh, when they decide to fire you do they give you two weeks notice? Do they think about your family, your bills, your future? No, all they think about is the bottom fucking line: clean out your desk and beat it. So next week, when I walk out of that door, they'll know then its official.”
I thought about what he said and it knew was true. Even more so in the months that followed as I watch an unprecedented amount of friends, cohorts and superiors get fired all in one single day. People who unlike me loved the company, its benefits and the comforts it provided in their lives. But none of that mattered to this powerhouse of a company, the bottom line was more important.
It was my manager who first introduced me to the phrase Me, Inc. He often used it as an encouragement to pursue bigger and better dreams. “Always be sure to manage you wisely,” he’d say fatherly, “because no one else can do it better.” He never knew how much I took those words to heart. With Wave as an example of what could be done, my dreams in my front pocket, and the belief I was the only one equipped to manage Me, Inc. I set out to fulfill my pint-sized dreams.
Every day or so I miss the C.R.E.A.M. I miss the quality well tailored suits. I even miss the air of importance boardroom meetings once provided me. But what I don’t miss is the tiresome train ride, the constant chatter of dreamers with no gut, or the way my stomach used to churn every morning I stepped foot inside of that marble and glass building.
For the first time in my life I am realizing freedom. I am realizing what it means to live your best life. I am realizing life is not meant to be lived after work, or on the weekends, but every fucking day I breathe. What a revelation. What a fucking blessing. What a gift.
My life may not be as fabulous as it was before the change. I may not be able to buy all the things I once did. But it is just as full, just as meaningful, minus the C.R.E.A.M.
Who knew?
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When I decided I was going to write a novel, I wrote a novel. When I decided I was going to publish a novel I published a novel. When I decided I was going to take back my life and live it like it was meant to be live, I choked...Old habits die hard, you know? Especially those habits that provide a measure of comfort in our lives. For some of us it’s our jobs, our friends, our love interests even our families. For me it was a combination of all of the above. I was used to a certain lifestyle and freedom, true freedom, meant releasing some of the chains I had knowing placed on myself.
Of all these chains C.R.E.A.M. was and sometimes still is the hardest to let go. As a junior executive at one of the most powerful retirement companies in the world, a brother was set. In the eyes of many I was living the American Dream and setting an admirable precedence for a generation of onlookers to follow. But, I wasn’t happy.
Yeah I was able to secure many of the toys boys my age love to purchase. Yes I was able to wine and dine at some of New York City’s top restaurants. Yes I was able to book trips to far off countries some would love to visit. Yeah, I could do all those things and more but every morning I awoke incomplete and unsatisfied with my career, my purpose and my life. I hated my boss, the floor on which I worked, the transit system I was forced to utilize on a daily basis and the idea my time was not being spent helping those in need, but rather fattening the pockets of those already financially and [for the most part] emotionally secured.
C.R.E.A.M. kept me there though. Me and many, many others. You would be surprised, or maybe you wouldn’t, to know just how many people woke every morning to make it on time to a job they barely could stand all for the mighty, mighty dollar. How else would they be able to afford that house, that car, that midnight cruise to nowhere? So many of them dreamed, like me, to free themselves; every last one of them had a plan; a way out; a solution. But almost all of them were too afraid to act, except of course my boy Wave who reported to me one day: “Next week I’m out.”
Me: “Out? What do you mean out?”
Wave: “I’m ghost. History. Out of here.”
Me: “Word? What you got another job lined up?”
Wave: “Nawh. I’m just sick of this shit. I need a change.”
Me: “But how are you gonna live?”
Wave: “The same way I did before I came here, well. I’d forgotten that until the other day. I used to have dreams man. Big dreams. And this j-o-b has all but squashed them. It’s time I got them back.”
Me: “That’s peace man." I replied and nodded toward a nearby office. "You told them yet?”
Wave: “Nope.”
Me: “No? You’re just gonna leave, like that? No two weeks notice?”
Wave: “Let me ask you something bruh, when they decide to fire you do they give you two weeks notice? Do they think about your family, your bills, your future? No, all they think about is the bottom fucking line: clean out your desk and beat it. So next week, when I walk out of that door, they'll know then its official.”
I thought about what he said and it knew was true. Even more so in the months that followed as I watch an unprecedented amount of friends, cohorts and superiors get fired all in one single day. People who unlike me loved the company, its benefits and the comforts it provided in their lives. But none of that mattered to this powerhouse of a company, the bottom line was more important.
It was my manager who first introduced me to the phrase Me, Inc. He often used it as an encouragement to pursue bigger and better dreams. “Always be sure to manage you wisely,” he’d say fatherly, “because no one else can do it better.” He never knew how much I took those words to heart. With Wave as an example of what could be done, my dreams in my front pocket, and the belief I was the only one equipped to manage Me, Inc. I set out to fulfill my pint-sized dreams.
Every day or so I miss the C.R.E.A.M. I miss the quality well tailored suits. I even miss the air of importance boardroom meetings once provided me. But what I don’t miss is the tiresome train ride, the constant chatter of dreamers with no gut, or the way my stomach used to churn every morning I stepped foot inside of that marble and glass building.
For the first time in my life I am realizing freedom. I am realizing what it means to live your best life. I am realizing life is not meant to be lived after work, or on the weekends, but every fucking day I breathe. What a revelation. What a fucking blessing. What a gift.
My life may not be as fabulous as it was before the change. I may not be able to buy all the things I once did. But it is just as full, just as meaningful, minus the C.R.E.A.M.
Who knew?
