I’m not one for suggestive humor. It’s always embarrassed me a bit. It rarely ever made me even chuckle, and I didn’t like being the type of person who would chuckle at it.
But this cartoon has followed me for fifty years. When I arrived at my desk the morning after being promoted to editor of my college newspaper, I found this scrap of paper in my in-basket. I knew exactly who put it there. Her message was clear: Don’t let this go to your head. It’s not as big a deal as you think. Oh, how prescient was that!
The original clipping traveled with me from my hometown of Springfield, Missouri, to New York’s Mid-Hudson Valley, to Northern California’s Silicon Valley. It would disappear into boxes of memorabilia for years, then re-emerge during packing for the next move; I would ponder it a few minutes, then tuck it back away. Somehow it never traveled along on the last move to our retirement home in Goodyear, Arizona. But Gemini AI did a remarkable job, in that rendition up top, of capturing the original feel of that cartoon.
That slip of paper – but more so the caption, which has bubbled to the surface of my thoughts many, many times over the years – is now emblematic of a lesson I learned over and over again through the years. It is just this:
Nobody cares about the unique, eccentric milestones in your past lives.
Or in my case, my resume and LinkedIn profile.
What’s My Story?
A year out of college, I found myself in New Windsor, New York, working for the U.S. Chess Federation. Two years as managing editor of their monthly Chess Life magazine, then three years as editor-in-chief. I didn’t expect groupies then either. But when I later departed New Windsor for what became a 30-year career in high tech in Northern California’s Silicon Valley, I thought that line in my resume and LinkedIn profile would be provocative. I mean, who couldn’t fail to be intrigued?
Surely some hiring manager would start the interview there, as an icebreaker. And you know what? No one did. Through dozens of interviews. I got hit with only one question during an interrogation for a technical editing position, and it was really a challenge: how was that relevant to the job at hand? My answer: attention to detail. One had to be a fastidious and disciplined proofreader, as one hard-to-spot typo could ruin an entire three-page article. The interviewer nodded and moved on.
I rarely mentioned this curiosity to coworkers, and when I did it was often to downplay it, casting it as an example of one of those curious jobs we all seemed to have out of college. No one ever asked how I got the job, or how I liked it. So that listing was one of the first things I jettisoned from my LinkedIn timeline as I aged, cropping from the bottom, in a never-ending race to make myself appear more youthful in an industry suspicious of my premature gray hair … which eventually was no longer premature.
In retirement, I visited a local chess club and casually mentioned I’d worked for the U.S. Chess Federation “back in the day” and had been an editor of Chess Life. I’d rehearsed answers to questions I thought I might get. Did I know Bobby Fischer? (No, but I worked with a grandmaster who chaperoned teenage Bobby to his first tournaments abroad.) Did chess make Bobby crazy? (No, chess kept Bobby sane for as long as he kept playing it.) Is Magnus Carlson the GOAT? (Yes, if one considers skill alone, but one could wish for a more personable ambassador for the game.) The most common response? “Oh, cool.” And it was my move again.
I’m Not Here to Whine or Complain
Yup, there were no groupies, not even any fans. Didn’t expect any. Very few people – interviewers, coworkers, friends, fellow woodpushers – did more than nod politely when I divulged my secret. That’s OK. Do I still mention it every opportunity I get? You bet. It wasn’t my best job by any stretch. Still, I’m proud of my years editing that exotic magazine. I enjoyed every minute of it. (I have several more stories to tell from those years.) It even steered my life down a happy course; the Chess Life editor who succeeded me introduced me to a wonderful lady who became my future wife. Win!
Fortunately, work life has been good to me. I had a long string of jobs I mostly liked, did well enough to retire here in the Arizona desert without needing a part-time job with Uber Eats. Still healthy. Eating well. Hobbies like the local chess club and my blogs to keep me busy. So I can face every day not obsessing about the minor disappointment of a role that still looms large in my memory being of absolutely no interest to anyone … but me.
Yeah, That’s the Point
Many of us have some weird, unusual, or at least personally memorable work or life experience. Here’s my advice: Take your satisfaction from the escapade itself, without expecting validation from friends, relatives, coworkers, and even … family. Enjoy the memories for themselves, not for the stories you’ll be able to tell. (But tell those stories anyway!)
As for myself, when I’m playing at the local club and some new member asks about my previous career, I still step backwards over thirty years in high-tech servitude and mention Chess Life first. Some day. Some day. Some day … someone’s eyes will light up and ask if I knew Bobby.