The best advice anyone ever gave me about the wonderful world of commerce was this: “Like work, but love family.”
I believe in work. I believe that if we are able, we should work. I believe that work is a noble, honorable gift we are all given the opportunity to do. But no one on their deathbed has ever been reported as saying, “You know, I wish I had spent more time at work.”
In fact, in Bronnie Ware’s best-selling memoir, “The Top Five Regrets of the Dying,” the second most common statement she heard as a palliative care nurse was, “I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.”
Since moving into FivePoint in Valencia, I have come to know and now love Bob. We first met outside his home when he was walking his dog, Miah. One of the wonderful aspects of moving into a brand-new community is all the fresh faces you get to meet. In fact, I’ve often said to my wife as the construction continues toward the coast, “Just look at all these friends we haven’t yet met!”
Bob was a very successful salesman — now long retired. Over the many dinners and outings, we’ve enjoyed with him, his extended family, and friends, I’ve come to learn more about the vocation he pursued, the businesses he built and sold, and his failures and successes at work.
But you know what moves me most about my brand-new friend, Bob? It’s the way his wife, Christine, looks at him when they chit-chat. As octogenarians, their eyesight is dimming and their hearing is impaired, but I can see they understand each other’s heartbeat. They live with their son and daughter-in-law. What makes me watery-eyed is the way the two younger residents revere the elders they live with and deeply care for — always listening and always loving.
This shows me that Bob is a rich man. There may be no more business meetings in his calendar, and no more trade shows at which to sell his wares, but I can see that Bob has truly reaped what he has sown. I want to be like Bob when I grow up.
In humility, he shared with me how lonely life was as a traveling salesman around the United States. He told me he often felt compelled to stay longer in an industrial city because the motel offered the sixth night free. When pennies were hard to come by, he knew his labor would drive the top line, and being frugal would protect the bottom line.
Christine told me that Bob would call her every night before laying his head on his lonely pillow. Bob told me he carried his own portable typewriter so he could write up his sales proposals at night from his motel room, drinking milk and eating cookies while many of his counterparts were out drinking and breaking promises to those they said they loved at home.
Christine told me that Bob would sometimes arrive home at midnight on a Friday after a very long work week to bring home the bacon, only to get up and cook it just a few hours later before they took their son to his Little League baseball game.
Bob is rich now because of where he invested. He invested in his marriage. He invested in his family. And as my wife and I are benefiting from firsthand, he is still investing in new friends.
Yes, the best advice I can give you from up here on the hill, which the locals call “Magic,” is to “Like your work, but love your family.” Work will come and go. Paychecks will go up and down. Businesses will launch and then be transferred to others, but what remains is family.
And for all of us — and Bob may be ahead of some of us — when the Big Boss blows the final whistle, our time on Earth is done, and He calls us in for our final performance review, wouldn’t it be great to peacefully know that, like Bob, you’ve worked hard but loved even harder? Now, that to me is a wonderful life and one that’s worth rewarding eternally.
Paul Butler is a Santa Clarita resident and a client partner with Newleaf Training and Development of Valencia (newleaftd.com). For questions or comments, email Butler at [email protected].
