The Way of Things

The sermon title this past Sunday was, "Bloom Where You're Planted." That's all well and good, but lately I've felt like the poster child for "Wilt Where You're Planted."

I know I've said it before, but it bears repeating. The work I do is endless. We get something done and our reward is much more to do. I've long said that excellence is its own punishment, and that's no more true than where I work. It's just the nature of the job.

So I found it rewarding to see today's post by Megan McArdle at InstaPundit. The Washington Post had an article that shows that high-paying jobs are boring. That means that people better off than I am are probably worse off than I am.

McArdle ends the post this way:

There is a tendency among liberal arts types to think that it is grossly unfair that investment bankers make so much money, when said artsy type's clearly more socially valuable work is so pitifully renumerated. Having spent a summer doing it, I personally think that anyone who is willing to spend his Saturday night going over the fine print in an SEC prospectus until 2 am is welcome to all the filthy lucre they will pay him. I chose to become a journalist because I've only got forty or fifty years left on this planet, and if I'm going to spend the majority of my waking hours doing something, I'd rather do something I feel is worthwhile than something that will buy me a cushy place to sleep. It seems downright piggy for those of us with what my mother calls "English Major Jobs" to demand both fulfilling work and lavish renumeration.[emphasis added]

A point well taken. Since I'm somewhere in the middle between lavish and pitiful remuneration, I suppose my work should be somehwere in the middle between fulfilling and "fine print in an SEC prospectus until 2am."

Yep. Wilting or not, it looks like I'm on track with The Way of Things.