Exploring Alternative Career Paths: A Personal Journey

II think it was when I was in the sixth or seventh grade and I read something futurists were expecting. They stated that in the future, most people could expect to change careers three or four times in the future.

While a lot of what they predicted didn’t happen, they were pretty much on the mark for that prediction.

I started as a cowboy. I’m not exactly sure if being born into the job counts as a career, but there it was.

I don’t think you could call being a student a career either. But I explored a lot. Some of those explorations included being a DJ, television production, welding, carpentry…

You get the point.

But let’s talk about careers where I had a title and drew a paycheck doing it. If we use that definition, then being a Police Officer was my first true career.

I graduated from college, and Uncle Sam showed up wanting me to pay back my student loans. So, I started singing the song sung by the seven dwarves that goes, “I owe, I owe, so it’s off to work I go!”

I went into police work with the idea of law enforcement being a temp job at best.

I put in an application with Alamosa PD, tested, interviewed, and figured it would be a wintry day in Hell when they called. You see, I never thought I’d ever be a cop. I’ve never considered myself a tough guy or a fearless person. I wouldn’t have been my first choice for hiring.

Then one day, the Devil must have shown up at a sporting goods store and purchased ice skates. They not only called but hired me.

Someone later teased me that the reason they hired me was I’d fit into the uniforms of the man who was leaving (I often believe it to be true).

I admit it here. I had a lot of growing up to do.

What really helped was going to the Antonito PD and the Conejos Sheriff’s Office. I had no backup in a lot of instances, and I was making the decisions. That’s when I started becoming not only good at the job but enjoying it.

Then a bit of a transfer down to a small mining town in New Mexico.

And then career change number two happened.

When the mine closed, so and the town followed. I’m looking for a job. Either every other department was laying off, not hiring, or had a hiring process that was insane.

One day I’m walking down the street in Alamosa, and I passed the Army recruiter’s office. In the window is a sign that talks about Army opportunities. I said, “What the hell,” and walked in.

There was a staff sergeant behind the desk, and he asked if he could help me.

“You’ll probably toss me out when you find out how old I am,” I said.

“How old are you?” he asked.

I told him.

“What are you bringing to the party?”

“How about bachelors and almost ten years in law enforcement?”

He pointed at a chair and said, “Sit down.”

A month later, I’m the oldest male PFC in the United States Army who’s never been busted.

Career number two was born.

In a lot of ways, it’s hard for me to think of the Army as a career change. After all, I went in as a military policeman, and in some ways, all I did was change one uniform for another.

If I’d stopped and thought about it, I might have gone in as a medic (I had experience as an EMT and a certification) or tried to get out into Military Intelligence or onto a flight line, but I didn’t. But I stayed with what I knew, and it worked out.

After I left the Army, I went into emergency management. That was fun, and it set the stage for my career change number four.

Government grants funded my job with Emergency Management. And one day…

Yep, the grants went away.

I was out of a job.

Julie asked what we were going to do.

“I learned all about computers doing this,” I said. “Let’s hang out a shingle.”

I couldn’t even spell TCP/IP, and I’m running a computer company.

And I’ve been doing that for almost thirty years.

Now, it’s time for what I hope will be last career change.

I’m a novelist.

Now, if I can get it to pay some serious bucks.

But the big thing I learned is this. If you can read, you can reinvent yourself.

But be warned. Reinventing yourself takes guts.

Good luck.