So I’m reading some stoicism, in particular “Right Thing Right Now” by Ryan Holiday, and it’s really very impressive. Often it seems to come down to..

“What is your vocation? To be a good person.”
—MARCUS AURELIUS, MEDITATIONS, 11.5

…which seems to be almost flippantly simplistic, at least until we get around to defining ‘good’. But as you dig deeper into stoicism (at least of the Aurelius flavour) you find plenty of examples, and they do ring true. My concept of ‘good’ people really do these things naturally (if inconsistently: we’re all human after all). I’m going to dwell in this for a long while, I think.

However, one aspect has caused me to pause. There’s a deceptively simple chapter called “do your job”, which is just that. You do your job, whatever it is, according to contract (whether it is written or just understood) and according to your ethics. There are plenty of examples of people in history who had a harder life than they needed to, because they ‘did their job’ whilst regarding it as an ironclad duty, not to be compromised. So, we are professional in all aspects of the job. No corruption, short hours, gifts, sickies. And no weakening to pressure to violate that duty or those ethics.

And now were back to Marcus Aurelius, whose vocation, whose job, was to be a good person.

All very good, but why my pause?

I went into software development almost by accident. Sure, I was always technically inclined, and enjoyed fooling with computers. But I never loved it. I never played with them after hours, joined clubs or did hackathons. As a result, I never came close to developing the often exquisite skills of those who did. That was fine in the early days, when my common sense could push through my technical limitations, and I was well regarded back then. But as time moved on, the industry grew in complexity, and my skills slipped behind, there came a point where I was just not good at my job anymore. I was being paid well but delivering substandard results. True, it was also at a time of huge mental stress from my family situation, but I stayed there and took the money. As primary breadwinner, walking away would mean selling the house at a time of huge financial pressures, with deeply unpleasant consequences. A true rock and a hard place.

And yet, it’s not that difficult as an ethical decision. I was violating the terms of my employer. Period. The increasing unpleasantness of the situation eventually forced me out, but I look back at those last two years where I just hung on for dear life, and it was not good. I also wonder whether I’ve learnt anything, such that the situation won’t repeat in some other form. Tricky one.