For my fellow servicemen and cops:
You struggle for years, working long hours under shitty conditions. You learn complex skills, growing your knowledge to apply it in a way that makes you better at your job. So that you may better serve. You’re gone from your family for long periods of time, and even when you are around them, you’re not entirely there. You go to funerals for our brothers and sisters. You have near misses, and spend time in the hospital surrounded by people who care, wondering if you’ll be as lucky next time. These are the things you do for our chosen profession. After a while you don’t see results; you just see an ineffective system that doesn’t quite do as much as you’d like. It’s frustrating.
At some point, you start realizing that if you had chosen a different path and applied yourself with similar vigor, your life would be vastly different. I know I did. At one point I stumbled upon the millionaire interviews at ESI money. They’re a treasure trove of information; I love learning from all of the people who have worked hard for years to build such a sizeable net worth. I’m lucky to barely be in that peer group. Last I checked, our net worth was somewhere in the 1.5 million range, including the value of our house. But while the interviews are a great resource, it’s easy to fall into the comparison trap. There are exceptions, but when reading the interviews of the people who’ve achieved over 5 million in net worth, they typically have a very high income. These are people that have made mid six figures for years. Yeah, I feel like it’s awesome to have gotten to where I did with a comparatively low civil servant salary. But in reading the interviews, it pretty obvious if I’d chosen to go private sector and strategically applied myself in the same manner as I did in the police department, I’d have several multiples of what I have now. Sure, that path would have not been without considerable sacrifice, and like mine, would have required some amount of good fortune to be successful. But I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have had anyone trying to kill me if I’d gone into tech sales or whatever.
If you’re reading this, I imagine you’ve had some version of the same thoughts. To sum up, why the hell did we work so hard, for so little, at such great personal cost? Yeah, service is inherently a one way street. Going into it we all knew that we wouldn’t be compensated for the hardship. In a perfect world, we should accept that without any bitching and be perfect altruistic animals. Maybe you are, but I’m not. It’d be nice if the juice were worth the squeeze. But you know what? It may not seem like it, but I think it is. Let me tell you about the reward.
We got lucky. It was unseasonably warm for our winter backpacking weekend. High 40’s and rain, much better than the sub zero of weeks past. We set off on the trail, traversing what would be considered rugged and rolling terrain in this comparatively flat part of the country. After six miles, we found a decent camp site in the backcountry, and were able to get our tents pitched before the rain picked up.
All of us had spent at least a decade in the infantry, and had walked many a mile carrying triple the load of what we brought with this weekend. I had 40lbs on my back, which some backpackers would consider a ridiculous amount for 36 hours in the woods. But then all of us had done plenty of miserable outdoors craziness in the name of stupid army games; we’d decided to pack in as much comfort as possible. Our camp bordered on glamping. Giant tarp with ample space to walk under, build a fire, and sit around on our comfy chairs. One guy brought a bluetooth speaker, another brought christmas lights. We cooked food, shared some bourbon and cigars, and swapped stories.
We’d all gone separate ways since our time in the unit, but had continued to chase the dragon for years until finally settling down. We had some catching up to do. After some prying, I told my friends about the things I ran into doing cop work in a big city. How I’d been shot at, shot, and returned the favor a few times, all while trying to save some lives. Another guy described how insurgents breached the wall to his FOB, and the ensuing mess. Ever humble, he left out plenty. Another guy around the fire, who had read the official report and seen the drone footage of our friend’s exploits, filled in the gaps. It was clear our friend had done some straight up hero shit. Knowing him, this was not surprising. We went on, and talked about friends not there, whose deeds eclipsed ours. Laughed a lot, and enjoyed some comfortable silence staring into the flames.
Some might think we told stories to brag about killing people, which I suppose is some bad action movie trope. Nope. We’d all set out to prove ourselves in the worst possible conditions with the secondary goal of trying to make the world better. And each in our own small way had done that. Or, at least we’d proven to ourselves that we’d run towards the gunfire instead of away. I’m not sure we made anything better. Now, after two decades of crazy, we sat around a fire in perfect safety and comfort. And I suppose that was the reward.
It would be nice to have five million dollars. With a super low 3%SWR, that’s equal to $150K a year. Could score a Tesla and quarterly jaunts to the Maldives with that kind of scratch. But had I gone that route, I wouldn’t have the same memories. Sure, some wake me up at night. That’s the price of having put it on the line more than healthy. But some of the memories make it worth it; memories when the training worked and I did what I should have. Memories of other people doing truly amazing things to help a fellow human in the toughest of spots. And those memories are the greatest of currencies, worth more than I can fathom. Because sometimes, I get to sit around a fire and trade them with friends I respect, who in turn share memories of their deeds and the great deeds of others. I may lean towards the introverted side of things, but to be accepted in this club, and enjoy the company of it’s members, is something I value highly. Just under being a parent and husband.
That seems to be the ultimate reward. The knowledge that when things were at the worst, you didn’t fold and kept going. And even better, that you are accepted into a community where every member has proven themselves as well. When I was in the fog of work, I took this for granted. My coworkers were just my coworkers. Now I see them for what they are; truly amazing people who I get to hang out with. One of the benefits of retiring way early as well as having spent years trying to not suck at mindfulness is that I now have the time and capacity to reflect on things. And as I try to take stock of my life and realize how awesome I’ve got it, one of the things I cherish most is having free time to spend with people who inspire me. And that’s a pretty good reward.
If you’re still out there, getting it done, I know it can suck a lot. There are times- a lot of times– where you’ll question what you’re doing. Question your path in life. I get that. I know the above words probably don’t do justice to what you’ve earned, but I hope someday you too will realize it was all worth it.
