One night over the holidays, I was sitting by the fireplace having a drink with one my sons. It was just the two of us for a while having an easy chat about nothing in particular, until he pointed out that I will be having a milestone birthday in January and asked me if I was doing any extra reflection.
So much for the easy chat about nothing!
And why is it kids, no matter their age, always find a way to call their parents old?
I told him that at my age there’s a lot to reflect on and asked if he was curious about a particular topic.
Interestingly, he narrowed his question down to “What did I think mattered most in terms of my career?”
That’s a topic I have, indeed, spent a great deal of time reflecting on.
I shared that early on I thought going to a top college, fancy titles, recognition and climbing the ladder quickly, and of course a large paycheck were what mattered most.
Those things are nice, and the need for financial security certainly never goes away.
But the rest, I told him, kind of faded with time. The moments that stayed with me weren’t about the top college, accolades, or promotions, but rather moments of contribution, pressure managed, growth, and personal pride in making a difference.
Think of it this way I told him: The baseball player who hits a home run doesn’t have the scoreboard burned into his memory; it’s the feeling of personal achievement that rushed through him when he made perfect contact and knew the ball was gone. It was the celebration at home plate with his team. Those are the things that matter. Feelings of accomplishment. Feeling you made an important contribution. The undeniable knowledge that you made a difference, that you mattered.
When work is at its best, it stops feeling like “work” and becomes purpose or even passion. Humans are wired to contribute — especially in community (teams, projects) and toward a shared goal. Status (titles, promotions, seniority) fades quickly. Impact and pride endure. A successful career isn’t about becoming “Senior Vice President.” It’s about being able to say: I did something that mattered.
The best work of our lives isn’t defined by comfort, safety, or compensation. It’s defined by meaning.
In the end I told my son, what I believe people truly value in work is feeling respected, accomplishing more than they thought possible, and contributing to something they’re proud of.
He thought about that for a minute without saying a word. Then said, “Makes sense,” got up and called the rest of the family together to play a game of Harry Potter Clue. Would you believe the “kid” won by correctly deducing Draco did it with Mandrake in the Owlery? It was a nice night.
I went to bed that evening thinking I might have had the same answer if he’d asked me about family.
