The Adventures Of A Uncommon Man

Chapter 6 The Benefits Of Wagon Wheels And A Rant About Jobs We Hate

A long time long ago, in the American wild west, there lived a Texas wagon wheel maker. His speciality was making wagon wheels. His business was lucrative and profitable because his wagon wheels were the best in the business. They were strong and durable and lasted years. The thing was, the wagon wheel maker travelled long and hard for his wood and only made a handful of these wheels. Yet sold them for a fortune. And what's more, people brought these wheels because they knew they were the best in the business. So rich had the wagon wheel maker had become that he brought a house far out in the country.
His son, eager to know his success asked him why his wagon wheels were the best in the business.
With a smile he said to his son. "I don't choose trees that are in the forests. But those that are out in the open, exposed to the winds and rain. Because these lonely trees are not sheltered against nature, their wood grows strong. Struggle is what strengthens these trees much like how struggles strengthen the human spirit".
And this was the wagon wheel makers secret.

I was heading back along the A500, rain falling heavily on my windscreen, forcing the wipers to work that extra bit hard. Even with them going fast, the visibility was seriously reduced. The only thing that made the road that slightly bit clearer was the lights from the cars behind me and in front. I had only just crossed the Weston Roundabout, with its turnings branching out to the M6 north and south and roads leading to Barthomly and Crewe when the heavens had opened up and it started raining.
I've seen rain before, many times in my lifetime like we all have but never like this in its intensity and ferocity. It was like some clamity that had just found it's way out of Revelations in the Bible. Combined with the sheer power of the wind, the conditions outside resembled a full blown typhoon. All we needed now was some thunder to complete the job.
I could see the rows of traffic leading from Stoke to the Weston Roundabout on the opposite side of the carriageway at a standstill. It wasn't surprising with all the roadworks happening on that one roundabout. But you could almost imagine, even feel the frustration of the drivers stuck in that que. I know, because I have been in that situation before, many times. I know the pain of wanting to go home but find that your journey time has been delayed because of accidents on the road, broken down vehicles or in this case, roadworks.
I had the heater on in the car at full capacity, feeling the hot hair blowing from the vents on to my face and legs. Conditions outside had gone cold. Not ice cold but chilly and it was the wind that carried that icy blast to it. I really felt sorry for people caught out in these dreadful conditions and it made me realize just how dependant I had become with my car. Not just getting me from A to B but for warmth and shelter from the harsh, unwelcoming elements. I can vividly recall the days I use to take the bus to work. That was back in the day when I worked for a print and mailing company in Middlewich until it folded up. I can still remember how it felt waiting in freezing cold conditions by the bus stop waiting for a bus to come. How things change so quickly.
By this time, I was still going over in my head what Josh had said to me. This 'so-called-big-secret' he wanted to tell me, a secret that turned out to be nothing new, but something I already knew. I've read and researched enough on the subject of the Law Of Attraction to know it's your thoughts and feelings that create your life and films like The Secret make it look and sound so easy by telling you that you have to feel good and visualize yourself having what you want. But it's not easy applying that to your life, trying to conjure up the feelings of having the thing you want when there is so much crap in your life.
Josh claimed he has a unique process which would enable me to better apply this so-called-universal-law. It was the very thing he used to gain his success in life and he feels I've reached a point in my life that I am ready to apply this secret knowledge to my own life. Knowledge, which he claims was kept secret from the masses for centuries. All he wants for me to do is write out the very things I want from life and give it to him tomorrow. What he intends to do with it is beyond me. Personally, it all sounds like a big waste of time. But hey, what have I got to lose?
My life is one tangled mess with a marriage that has gone stale, a job that offers me no sense of purpose and creative thrill, a boss that has it in for me, and a butt load of debts that need paying off, from a credit card bill to an Argos card. I don't know how it all went wrong with me. Why my life has taken a nosedive and that it is not how I wanted it to be. But I know that to change the circumstances, I have to try and step it up. I know Josh has helped me before in the past with advice and I hope what he has to offer me now will be worth my while. Because right now part of me is seething after what had transpired today.
I am still running the incident in my head. The dressing down that Bradshaw gave me. He practically made me beg for my job, not to mention humiliate me several times over. He could have easily given me my marching orders, fired me there and then. But he didn't. Instead, he resorted to depromoting me, gave me the kind of work nobody wanted to do, cleaning toilets. This is worse than being fired. It's character assassination. No different from a guy on a stagnight who gets plastered, only to have his mates play a cruel prank on him by stripping him naked and tying him to a lamppost with some rude sign put over his neck. Bradshaw has practically made me the laughing stock of the whole company, turned me into the village idiot. I know he's always had it in for me. He has it in for anyone whose face does not fit the picture. Perhaps I am the one he hates the most and firing me would have been too easy. He wants me to suffer enough that I eventually throw in the towel and leave in disgust and humiliation. But as I promised myself, I was not going to let Bradshaw win. I was going to prove him wrong, make him eat his bad attitude and respect me. I'm much better than that place, more intelligent then most of the people I work with. If it had not been for my lack of confidence I would be doing something far worthwhile.
The A500 was quite busy. Not unusual for this time of the day. Though it was plain sailing down this stretch of road once I was free from the Weston roundabout. The rain was falling much heavier, the wind picking up a notch or two. I could practically feel it as it blew torrents of rain at the left side of my car. Add this to the spray of water from the road caused by passing vehicles, and the visibility was very poor. I yawned as the first signs of tiredness began to wash over me in waves. I had not realised how hard I had worked until now. I needed an early night if I was to get up on time tomorrow. I could not afford to be late again as Bradshaw would see that as an excuse to fire me permanently.
I saw the influx of cars as they streamed pass me on the dual carriageway. Some of them went so fast, they were like a blur of headlights, kicking up spray from the water that had accumulated on the roads. People were always in a hurry to get back from work and it proved one thing to me, that the majority of these commuters hate their work. I can recall one time listening to a motivational CD from some new upcoming guy called Mark Jeremy who is based in America. He reckons over ninety per cent of people hate their jobs.
But is that surprising?
Who would love going to work these days?
I mean, you are giving away over seven hours of your life every day for over forty years to an employer who will dicate how you behave, what you wear and how far they can push you with their demands and ridiculous deadlines. The job is clearly something you have no spiritual connection to and gives you no creative thrill whatsoever. And what you are working so hard for is something you don't even own, something that is not even yours. It's another person's dream, another person's vision that you are fulfilling and what are they giving you?
Sure, a decent wage packet. Just enough to live off and get by. But the employer, the one that you signed your life away to is the one you are making rich. The owners of these companies we work for hardly do any work. They have others to do it for them and they can come and go as they please. They live the kind of lives we could only dream off and all the time they are getting rich off our efforts.
I can almost see the epiteth on the gravestone of a common man that would read...

Here lies Joe Bloggs

He was a decent chap.

He did his work.

Paid his taxes.

Nothing more

need be said...

And of the owner of the company he works for, his employer. He or she will have the kind of grave or mausoleum that will highlight all their greatest achievements, how they became successful building empires and creating legacies and the kind of exciting lives they lived. All because we put them there at the top of the pile. It's sad, but it's true how so many of us are living unsatisfactory lives. How we put up with jobs we hate. I guess that's why so many drink so much and take drugs. We are sad because we are not doing what we came here to do, our purpose or calling. We come into this world to create and express, to look, listen, learn, contemplate and ponder of this magical thing called life.
And what do we do with it?
We take a dump all over it by allowing ourselves to become bored, stressed, anxious, pissed off and frustrated. We end up spending our time doing things we don't want to do, caring about the wrong things. Bitching about others, hating others, blaming every bugger else for our problems. Never really taking any responsibility. Everything that is good and wholesome in our lives is taken for granted. And the only time we ever really open our eyes is when something major happens, whether a doctor tells you that your are dying or someone close is. I've always asked myself what I would do if I only had to the end of today, the end of the week, month or year to live.
What would I do differently?
I certainly would not be wasting my time on things that I hate. I would be doing what I want to do, what I love to do. I would be with the people I love and showing compassion and respect for others. They say life is too short, but I think it's too long...a prison sentence when you are in a job you hate and with people that only bring you down.
'I really need to change my life'.
That's what I keep telling myself but I said that three years ago and still I'm working at the same crap place working the same crap hours. We are all messed up people, totally and completely screwed up because we deny ourselves the kind of living we so desperately want. And the end result of our inaction, our refusal to act is 'regret'. I once heard the actor 'Joe Pesci' say in a movie that 'living a life full of regrets is a lot worse than being a loser'. It's the worst kind of hell anyone can put themselves through. I've been awake to these realizations for too long and it's getting to the point where its driving me up the wall.