We have no money

Last week, I mentioned I got my start in advertising as a Mailroom clerk. I was paid $800 a month. A month! At the time, rent for my shitty apartment in West LA was $400 a month.

So after work, I'd run home, jump out of my mailroom clerk clothes and jump into my short order cook clothes. And work at a nightclub in Santa Monica from 7-Midnight.

My brain hurts just thinking about it.

It would have exploded had I known, or even had an inkling, how much money the top officers at the company were hauling home every two weeks. But this was pre-Internet and pre-social media so there would be no way for me know.

Moreover, and this is the important point, they, meaning the people wallpapering their dens with $100 bills, had the good sense and decorum to keep that shit private. And not in a passive manner. They went out of their way not to flaunt their wealth. They drove crappy cars. Brown bagged their lunches. And even washed their own coffee mugs. To appear grounded. To exhibit some type of modesty.

Why?

Because it was in the best interest of the company not to demoralize the other employees by demonstrating the inequality of the pay scale. This bit of wisdom seems to have been lost. Along with the notion that workers who put in 70 hours Monday thru Friday should take the weekend off to recharge their batteries.

Recently, on her blog Heidi Consults, Heidi writes The Five Reasons Why Your Best Creative People Will Quit. As someone who has been in the trenches for longer than I want to believe, I can tell you four of the reasons hold no water whatsoever.

Reason #2 however resonates like a 6.7 earthquake.

Which has inspired me to write a little note to my future self. 

I'm only 44 years old and I believe the best part of my career is yet to come. Some may think that is delusional, but if you've been a reader here for any amount of time you know I'm an eternal optimist.

If I ever become wealthy -- but Rich you have your health, a loving family and all the blessings a man could want, yeah, well none of that shit pays the two college bursars or the bank with the huge note on the house.

Like I said, if I ever become wealthy, or have my own agency, or land a really sweet staff job, the first thing I'm going to do is buy my family an outrageously expensive membership at a private ski club, I didn't even know those existed.

The second thing I'm going to do is delete my Facebook account.