An unexpected role model

We all know what a role model is supposed to be: a wealthy, powerful, saintly, or otherwise successful person who can become a guide for our own careers. That's why we say that corporate executives, politicians, and even professional athletes need to set an example for young people. But my role model turned out to be someone very different – and I'm much happier for it.

When I was in graduate school, I worked at an economic research institute along with many (much more) talented students and professors. Any of them would have made a great role model for a young academic, and I was in a good position to follow in their footsteps; I had gone straight from college into a doctoral program, and I had every chance of being a professor by age 25. But a couple of years into the program, I was having doubts – did I really love my field enough to spend the rest of my 20s and some of my 30s working endless hours, trying to earn tenure at a top university?

It was about this time that I met Peter. As I recall, he had just taken a job at the institute as a fundraising assistant (this was more than 20 years ago, so my memory might be a big foggy). At close to 50 years of age, he was one of the older people there with a fairly junior job. Yet he was unfailingly jovial and enthusiastic, whether in the office or out on the ultimate frisbee field, where many of us blew off some steam one evening a week.

Some time after Peter joined, the institute's president decided that we should all get to know each other better. And so a questionnaire went around to collect information for a book of staff biographies. Most of the biographies were pretty similar: I studied X, I now work on Y, I enjoy my pastime Z, and I love my family.

Peter's biography was, by comparison, remarkable. He spoke of travel all over the world and a dozen different jobs: surf instructor, bouncer, guidance counselor – he had done everything. What a life, I thought. I'd read some Aristotle in college, and here was a person who was truly flourishing as a human being, realizing his potential in so many different ways, just as the ancient philosopher had proposed.

At the time, I didn't necessarily take on the implications for my own life. But I did know that I couldn't let go of the rest of the world outside my field. During college I'd dabbled in journalism and music, two professions I liked but ones my parents and some of my advisors considered hobbies. I kept pursuing them during graduate school, and then, when it came time to look for jobs, I sent almost all my applications to universities in New York and London. These cities were big enough, I figured, to offer other avenues – at least for personal enrichment.

And alongside the usual academic job market, I also made some low-key inquiries about jobs in journalism. I was lucky; I ended up calling the right person just as a job was opening up. When the time came to choose between a journalism job in London and an academic job with a short commute from New York, I chose journalism.

Since then, I've worked in journalism, government, academia, consulting, and sports. I've lived on four continents. But about midway through my journey, I asked myself, was I just a perpetual dilettante? Each time I entered an organization, there was no one above me whose job I wanted. I didn't particularly want to win fame, earn millions, or manage hundreds of people. There were plenty of people I respected professionally, but no one I wanted to emulate.

Then it hit me: Peter was the closest thing I had to a role model. He had experienced so much, and – just as importantly – he seemed happy. It was possible to live a fulfilling life without following the standard path.

This was hugely reassuring. It also gave me the confidence to make one more big jump, when I started my own business even as my family had started to grow. Now I've found a ladder I want to climb, and I know where I'm heading. But I still keep looking from side to side for opportunities that could lead to new horizons.

I tried to find Peter to share my story. From what I could gather online, he passed away several years ago. So I'm sharing my story with you all, in case Peter might become a role model to someone else as well.