There aren’t many places that evoke massive ego, alongside massive shame for me, like that I feel when I pull a rental boat away from a dock.
The pride kicks in like, “nah man, I don’t need help…”
And the shame kicks in like, “ah s**t, if I hit the dock…”
A few weeks ago, I avoided disaster and got out ok, and no-waked into Naples Bay.
The lineup of yachts would make millionaires feel like they haven’t made a penny.
In another career, I’d like to be a yacht-namer.
In particular, we cruised by (in our $400 rental) a yacht that had to be $10M.
Giant satellites. A boat bigger than ours attached to it.
Insane, and awesome.
Wiggle Room.
That was its name.
“They for sure have some wiggle room…” I laughed to my son and father-in-law.
As sick as the yacht was, and no amount of money can actually deliver what we hope it will, it did make me think.
Aren’t we all after some wiggle room?
Not the money (though I would have traded boats).
To create margin. To curate something cool. To make memories.
If we’re showing up angry to a job we don’t like and going home to a life we don’t love, what are we doing?
Maybe it’s in the margins, where we can find some wiggle room, to explore where we’re headed.
And who’s on the rental boat with us.
