Serendipity
This summer, my wife and I are moving to the United Kingdom’s Lake District region so that I can attend a year-long woodworking program at the Waters & Acland Fine Furniture School. This time last year if you would’ve told me that this would be my reality I would’ve been pretty skeptical. I had a secure, well-paying corporate job at one of the world’s top business consultancies. I have a master’s degree in business administration, pretty much antithetical to the credentials of a craftsman. Sure, I’ve been taking classes at the local Chicago School of Woodworking as a way to foster a hobby, but that’s all I ever expected it to amount to.
In March of this year, my company laid off about 70 people, including myself, in favor of transitioning a lot of our work to a combination of artificial intelligence and offshoring. I wouldn’t say I loved my job up until then; it wasn’t the most engaging work but it had great benefits and I liked the people I worked with. That being said, it was one of those jobs that really only required a laptop and an internet connection; there wasn’t a lot of room for creativity or self expression and the result of a day or month’s worth of work was usually either a new spreadsheet or a slick-looking PowerPoint presentation.
After the layoff, I took a week or two for myself before starting up a job search in earnest. I looked for similar roles for a bit before innocently checking out a few full-time woodworking schools without any real intention of entertaining such a crazy idea. In addition to the weekly classes I was taking, I had started exclusively reading books on woodworking and craftsmanship but again, this had just been to break up the monotony of a corporate career. The more I looked into these full-time programs though, the less I could fathom going back to a stereotypical desk job. There were some great schools in the US, but the ones in the UK had really piqued my interest. My wife and I had already been talking about potentially moving to Europe for a couple years since it would’ve been pretty easy to transfer to a different office and we knew that it would become a lot harder to make such a move once we started growing a family together.
Next thing I knew, I was pitching the idea to my wife one weeknight, showing her a PowerPoint I had created (old habits die hard) to compare the different programs and what the logistics for such a move would look like. My top choice, Waters & Acland, only had one spot left on their roster, and it could get snatched any day now. We also would need to figure out visas and immigration laws on our own, given that my former employee wouldn’t be there to facilitate the move.
This is where the serendipity started to reveal itself. Our apartment lease in Chicago was set to end at the perfect time for a big move like this. My wife’s job graciously offered to support our visas to the UK for a year, which removed a massive logistical burden for us. The remaining seat at Waters & Acland stayed unfilled long enough for me to muster the courage to put down a deposit. My parents even offered to take care of our cat, Miso, while we’re abroad (we’d love to take her, but getting her across the pond was a pretty daunting idea; plus, my parents’ last cat lived nearly two decades so I know Miso is in capable hands).
Don’t get me wrong; despite all of the doors being opened and pieces falling into place, I’m still nervous about such a radical 180. I’m trading stability for risk, Excel for a chisel. But I’d much rather give this my all now and fail spectacularly versus continue with the status quo and be faced with the inevitable “What if?” when I’m old and gray.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
- Theodore Roosevelt